Oh, Brother
by Rainfox88
Summary: 1885, Illinois. A young Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur wander into a country town following a lead to swindle a wealthy homestead and break their control over the town. But while scoping it out, Arthur encounters a young John Marston, setting fate in motion that will eventually become a rocky, yet loyal brotherhood. A short fic revolving around how Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur met John.
1. Chapter 1

**Oh, Brother**

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 **Summary:** A short story fic revolving around how Dutch van der Linde, Hosea Matthews, and Arthur Morgan met and took in a young orphan John Marston, further developing what would eventually become the Van der Linde gang. Rated T for language, some violence, drinking/drugs and mischief. It will mostly be Frienship/Family and Humor, but there will be Action/Adventure with some violence!

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Red Dead Redemption franchise, Rockstar, or its characters, etc. This is just for fun.**

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 **Chapter 1**

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"I did no such thing."

Hosea's tone was playful as he rubbed a hand through his light-blond hair before placing a hat upon his head. Dutch made a sound nearby, a mix between a chuckle and a snort as he spurred his horse to canter alongside them.

"Oh, dear brother, don't play sly with me. Even Arthur can see straight through your façade. That much is painfully clear."

"His what?" Arthur drawled, shaking his head, already impatient. "Are we lost or not?"

"I may have _slightly_ got us off course."

"Hosea, you said it was due southeast of the camp."

"Southeast?" Arthur grunted, glaring at Dutch. "Bessie said southwest."

"Did she?" Hosea asked, glancing over his shoulder at the path behind them. "Huh, that explains a lot."

They halted their horses on the road, Arthur voicing his displeasure with a groan. Dutch wheezed a laugh beside him. A gust of wind brushed by, plains surrounding them. The same, dull prairie had been their only scenery for the couple hour ride they've done.

"My friend the master con artist, horrible with directions."

Hosea waved them off. "I haven't been down this way in ten goddamn years. What do you expect? And every blade of grass looks the same."

"Next time maybe you should stay behind, old man, an' we can bring Bessie instead," Arthur said.

"Very funny, my boy."

"Jus' sayin'."

"Now come on, son, where is the fun in that? We couldn't get into quite as much trouble with 'ol Bessie and Susan around."

"That's the point!" Arthur looked around. "Can we move? I feel exposed here."

"We're exposed everywhere," Dutch replied. "What, you missing Chicago?"

"Hell no!"

"Okay then."

"We got company," Hosea announced.

A wagon pulled by two draft horses met them on the road, coming from behind them. The wagon was full of produce, skins, and other materials. Two men rode in the front while two sat in the back, and all four were armed. Arthur was quick to notice the men's suspicious glares as they rode up on them.

Dutch cleared his throat. "Let me handle this." And directed his horse over to the wagon. The men got their repeaters ready, but Arthur knew Dutch's charm would pacify them easily.

"Hello, gentlemen! My dear friend, his nephew, and I are sight seeing 'round these parts. Decided to get away from Chicago for a bit, and got a little lost. They're as stubborn as mules asking for directions. We're trying to find the town of Andell, could you so kindly point us in the right direction?"

"Andell?" the older man echoed, eyebrows furrowing. He scratched at his full beard. "That's across the river. You a ways off, pal. Ya'll have to head back yonder to Canker Point and take the trail to the river and find the 'ol run down station before headin' west into Andell."

Dutch smiled, a hand to his chest as he dipped his head. "Thank you, friend. You may have saved our necks."

"Not sure why ya boys would wanna go to Andell though," the older man continued. "Fire took out most of it 'bout a year ago or so. It's not near as populated as it was."

Arthur sighed. Well, there went their chance at poking around for jobs. The young man slouched atop his horse, but Hosea didn't break his "hello, I'm a polite gentleman and harmless" expression. Dutch didn't show any falter to the news.

"Is that right? That's quite a shame. I was hoping to surprise an 'ol friend down this way. He's from Chicago too. Had ambitions to start up a livery stable in these parts, if I remember correctly."

One of the younger men in the back of the wagon perked up. He looked to be in his early twenties just like Arthur, only wasn't near as large and sturdy as he was. "Oh, we know that feller. You talkin' 'bout a Mister Galligan right?"

A sly smirk eased on Dutch's face. "Why yes, that's him. I hope he is well?"

"He moved over to the town of Hickory, which is where we're headin'."

Dutch glanced back at his older partner-in-crime, their subtle exchange something only the two of them understood. Dutch turned back to the travelers.

"Why, you fellas are our saving grace today. May we join you on your ride to Hickory?"

The older wagon driver glanced at his passengers then back to Dutch. "Sure. We don't want no trouble though."

Dutch eased their new traveling companions with a gentle laugh, motioning to himself. "You'll get no such thing from us. Well, except for my brooding friend right there, he's a little grumpy at times."

Arthur gave Dutch a look. He and Hosea trotted alongside the wagon with Dutch as it followed the road to Hickory. Arthur stayed quiet, letting Dutch and Hosea sweet-talk the wagon riders and only talking when spoken to. It wasn't long before Hosea was drawing them in with some humorous story about a faulty fishing trip while portraying one of his many personas.

The wagon riders laughed and after that they were a lot more open and talkative, which is exactly what Dutch and Hosea wanted. Arthur heard the exchange of names, the aliases that his mentors chose this time around. The wagon driver, Hester, and his son, and the other two men were ranch hands for a wealthy homesteader family within the area. They explained how the Warrens were strict and hard to work for, how they used their prosperity to take over the town of Hickory.

Their complaints and frankness drove Dutch and Hosea to exchange knowing smirks with each other. Arthur knew them well enough to know that an idea was hatching. He swore it was like the two men could read each other's thoughts at times. He didn't quite understand it.

After traveling together on the road for an hour, the town of Hickory came into view. It was a bit smaller than what they were used to in scouting for jobs, but it would do. It was average, nothing quite unique stood out to Arthur, and he noticed the typical stores, homes, and dirt roads. The small town seemed to be quite populated, however. Men, women, and children walked the streets, some hollered out to others. Horseback riders and those on wagons kept the roads busy with traffic.

"Now this is quite a town you have here, Mister Foll," Hosea said. "Ya know, I think I've been here years before, and well, seems to have grown considerably."

"I'm sure it ain't nothin' like what you boys are used to in Chicago, but it's an alright town. The Warrens are to thank for its growth, but since they've taken over most stores and businesses, prices have gone up and, well, there're far more poor folk than there should be."

"Such a shame," Dutch said, dark eyes already scanning for opportunities.

"Anyways, this is where we go our separate ways, we gotta get these supplies to Mister Warren. You fellas be careful. Hickory has a thievin' problem. Ya'll find your friend Mister Galligan on the far side of town at the stables."

Hosea and Dutch waved them off as the wagon turned down a different road. Dutch turned his horse to face Hosea and Arthur as they looked over the town before them. The town was surrounded by more plains, a forest not far to the west. Besides the stores and houses, there were also livestock barns and pens. It looked to be mostly sheep and pigs here.

"Smell that gentlemen?"

"Yeah, smells like shit," Arthur grumbled.

"No, opportunities, Arthur. Did you not pay attention?" Dutch said, shaking his head.

"Aw c'mon, Dutch. There ain't nothin' here. I betchu that Mister Galligan lost all that money. Why else would he leave the city? He gon' have worse men than us after him."

Hosea chuckled. "He left because he has the money, you sulky buffoon. You still upset about what happened?"

"It weren't my fault."

"We never said it was, son."

"Eh, it wasn't that big of a loss anyway. We've been doing this for eight years, Arthur. Some jobs just don't pan out. Best to get over it," Hosea explained.

"Sure."

"Let's hit the saloon. I'm parched. We can discuss some ideas there, get a feel of the town," Dutch ordered, spurring his horse into a trot.

"Okay, Dutch," Hosea answered.

Arthur rode behind his mentors. They hitched their horses outside the small saloon. Inside, several folks drank and laughed away. The voices bounced through the walls, and Arthur scanned the room, the faces, the behaviors. It looked like there would be no trouble.

Dutch got them some drinks and they talked to the side, watching the townsfolk drink and chatter away.

Dutch and Hosea stood out amongst most of the people. They always wore nicer clothes, Dutch especially. Dutch had grown a mustache in the past couple years and kept it trimmed and neat, but Hosea remained clean-shaven as always. Despite Hosea being nearly twelve years older than Dutch, his eyes shown with the same youth, the same passion and ambition.

Arthur himself had grown considerably since they found him eight years ago. No longer a lanky, dirty teenager, he bulked up some and now had some scruff on his face. He wasn't as rowdy or impolite as he was when they first found him, the typical orphan delinquent. Although, he kept Dutch and Hosea on their toes with his sarcastic, often cynical nature.

His clothes weren't near as kept and clean as his mentors', but he often had the dirtier jobs. He finally could wear his father's hat without it swallowing his head. He may have not have liked his blood father too much, but he sure as hell liked his hat.

"Seems like good people here," Dutch said finally. "I'm quite interested about these Warrens our talkative friends spoke of."

"They didn't shut up once you charmed them," Hosea joked. "I'm curious though."

"You thinking what I'm thinking?"

Hosea grinned and Arthur rolled his eyes. "I thought we was here for Mister Galligan, not these Warren folks?"

Dutch patted him on the back. "If you'd paid attention on our humble ride into town, you would've heard the plight of our friends. The Warrens sound like your typical wealthy overlords of the region. Can you imagine what we could take from them?"

Hosea took a shot, letting the bartender give him another. "I'll look into the Warrens, see what I can find. Dutch, you've been wanting a crack at Mister Galligan for three weeks. Maybe you should go check that out?"

Dutch took his own shot, puffing from its bitterness. "Sure. I mean, if you're confident you can handle some hillbilly homesteaders who think they run this place?"

"You offend me, sir," Hosea mocked.

Dutch laughed. "Well, Arthur. How about you survey the town? See what else there is that we can take advantage of?"

"Sure, Dutch." Arthur raised his glass and gulped it down, hissing at the burn. "Jus' don't leave me here. I'd love to see Miss Grimshaw and Misses Matthews tan both yer hides once this is over."

Dutch lit a cigar as they headed out of the saloon. "Knowing them, they're getting into their own trouble."

Arthur laughed. "No doubt!"

Dutch bowed once they were outside. "I bid you adieu, my dear brothers. See you soon."

"Hey, make sure ya drag 'em behind a horse when you're through with 'em!" Arthur hollered.

"Shh," Hosea hissed, a hand going to the younger man's shoulder. "Don't give him any ideas."

"He's the one with the ideas, I'm jus' sayin'! That fool ruined our last job outside Chicago. Nearly broke my goddamn neck."

"We aren't here for revenge. We don't do that. We're here for his money, that's all. The job just didn't go as planned, Arthur. We're outta here once it's done, alright?"

Hosea was always able to settle him with his calm words and caring, wise eyes. "Yeah, sure."

Hosea smiled, patting Arthur's arm. "Alright. Well, get out there, boy, and see what you can find. We'll meet back here later."

Hosea went his own way in town. Arthur heaved a sigh, looking about. Time to get to work, he guessed. Straightening his hat, he stepped away from the saloon over to his horse.

"You be good, fella," Arthur said, patting the bay gelding's neck.

The next few hours, Arthur spent his time going into businesses and stores, getting the feel of the people and the town of Hickory. He eavesdropped on any interesting conversations his ears picked up. Apparently, the Warrens had a livestock auction every Thursday. It was something they could look into.

Later, he overheard the Warrens had some kind of cellar behind one of their barns that they always kept locked up and guarded. This piqued Arthur's interest, and he was excited to tell Dutch and Hosea about it.

While he waited for his father figures to return to him, he leaned on a hitch near their horses smoking a cigarette. He nodded and waved at passersby, just to keep up a friendly appearance. The town of Hickory must've had strangers coming and going a lot, because the townsfolk barely paid him any mind. Arthur liked that.

"Hey, Mister!"

Arthur turned around, only to see the body of a young boy flying through the air. The boy crashed into him, throwing Arthur onto his back, the wind knocked out of him from the kid's legs slamming his gut.

"Oof! What the hell?!" He coughed.

The boy had dark hair, and laughed as he cut his satchel strap, taking it and the hat atop Arthur's head before dashing off. Arthur scrambled to his feet, anger coming over him as he realized he had just been robbed by a damn kid.

"Get back here, you little shit!"

He chased after the boy as he took an alleyway between two stores. He looked to be around eleven or twelve, although Arthur could tell he was scrawny for his age. His hair fell past his chin in greasy dark locks, and his clothes were tattered and dirty.

For being small and thin, the kid could run fast and was nimble, ducking and swerving out of Arthur's grasp each time he went to snatch him. He knew the town well, weaving through people and farm equipment. Arthur barreled his way through folks, keeping the boy in his sights.

The boy climbed up and ran along a fence top before jumping into a pig pen and cutting away. Arthur heaved himself over, kicking and yelling at pigs to get through.

"I'm gonna wring yer neck! Com'ere, boy!"

"Catch me if ya can, ya big oaf!" He had a distinct, raspy voice.

The kid ducked under another wood fence. Arthur vaulted over it seconds later. He kept at the boy's heels, but the slippery little heathen would only veer away, using obstacles and people to stop Arthur. He jumped and grabbed onto a moving wagon as Arthur came back out into the street. Arthur ran after him on foot, the boy laughing.

"Nah nah, ya can't catch me. Why don'tchu give up?"

"Stop that wagon, mister! Ya got a little monster on the back of it!"

The wagon driver turned around at the holler, pulling on the reins to stop the horses. The boy ditched the wagon and darted for another building, Arthur cut him off. He blocked the boy's path, keeping his body as a barrier as he tried to get around him. The boy dove through his legs and got up and scampered off once more.

"Stop, ya little thief!"

As he came around the corner, huffing, the boy was finally caught. Like a little wild animal, he fought Hosea's hold. Hosea tried to calm the boy down. Arthur, jaw clenched, came over and snatched his satchel back. But just as he was about to grab his hat, the boy kicked Hosea in the groin. Hosea yelped, letting the boy go and he escaped.

"Ugh, so much for a polite introduction," Hosea groaned, holding himself.

Arthur, still annoyed, couldn't help but to laugh at the sight. "He got ya too, huh? Little shit was as slippery as the devil." Then Arthur realized the small thief still had his hat. "He got my goddam hat!"

Hosea grabbed him as he started after the boy once more. "Forget it, Arthur. We'll find him. Don't worry."

The boy was probably long gone anyway.

Dutch arrived shortly after. He took in their disheveled appearance, the pained scowl on Hosea's face as he gripped his crotch and Arthur's huffing breaths as he dusted himself off, mumbling a whole range of curses. Arthur reached into his satchel to make sure his journal was still intact. He was relieved to see it was.

Dutch raised his eyebrows. "What the hell did I miss?"

"You don't want to know," Hosea said, finally standing up straight.

"Got robbed by a goddam kid."

Dutch chuckled, earning him a glare from Arthur. "You mean a little bumpkin got the best of you, Arthur? My boy, come now!"

"Not funny, Dutch. He still has my damn hat. And well, damaged Hosea's tallywags."

Hosea wheezed. "I'm fine."

"Come on, we should head back to camp. Got some planning to do," Dutch said.

"But my hat!"

"We'll get it back, Arthur. We're gonna stick around a few days. We will see that brat again, no doubt," Hosea assured.

Arthur groaned. "Fine."

"I leave you both for a few hours and a child wreaks havoc on both your prides. What ever am I going to do with you two?"

"Easy for you to say. You didn't get kicked where it counts," Hosea huffed.

"Low blow, huh Hosea?"

"Hah, you're funny, dear friend."

Dutch feigned innocence, motioning to himself. "It's not my fault you two provide me opportunities for such jokes."

"If I don't get my hat back, I'm siccing Miss Grimshaw on that little heathen."

Hosea chortled. "Dear god, Arthur. The boy doesn't deserve that much torture."

The three of them laughed.

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 **A/N: The tags in this game section are really messed up, I need to message about this. Hosea Matthews, not Trelawny lololol. Anyway! Here's the first chapter. This is going to be a short story, around 5 chapters! Red Dead Redemption 2 has to be one of the best games I have ever played, I love it even more than the first one! I just love all the characters! I have so many fics I want to write for it now, but this is the one I wanted to do first. So I hope you all enjoy! :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

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Arthur scribbled in his journal while he ate, his legs straight out by the fire, his back up against a sitting log. He squinted as his hand jotted along a crisp new page, the crackling flames providing a poor light. He scratched a word out and put a more preferable one in its place, and reached over to grab another bite of venison.

A fist cracked the dome of his head, snapping him out of his creative diversion. "Ow, shit!"

"Arthur, what have I told you about eatin' with your mouth open?"

Miss Grimshaw hovered over him, hands planted on her hips, stern eyes capturing him.

Arthur rubbed his head. "You made me bite my tongue!"

"Well, then maybe next time you won't smack them jaws so loudly, huh?"

"I can't help if it's tough 'n chewy!"

"You complain' 'bout my cookin', boy?"

Arthur felt dread constrict his chest and he held his journal close. "N-No, ma'am!"

Even with a scowl, the tough-as-nails Susan Grimshaw was a beauty. Arthur couldn't remember her exact age, but he knew it to be around the same as Hosea and Bessie, late thirties. She had been his surrogate mother for the last seven years. She was strict, but also quite caring. She showed her love in different ways than most, but Arthur respected her just the same. She and Dutch at one time were sweethearts, but both had agreed later were better off as friends and business partners.

She sighed, deflating a little. "Just be a good lad and check the horses before bed, alright?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She smiled and walked away. Just as Arthur could breath, her voice boomed once more.

"DUTCH VAN DER LINDE, I JUST WASHED THOSE SHEETS!"

Chuckling, Arthur whipped out his journal again. Soon a calming presence sat on the log he was up against. Arthur's lips quirked, feeling the eyes over his shoulder onto the sketch he slowly drew.

"Hi, Bessie."

His other surrogate mother. Hosea's wife was a mischievous spirit, gentle and encouraging. She was a hell of a thief, but Arthur adored her heart. She was the kind of woman who would steal from a rich feller just to take two steps and give it to someone in need. Arthur could see why Hosea loved her so much. The two were just right for each other. Although, Bessie often joked that Hosea and Dutch acted more like a married couple than they did.

Arthur recalled she and Hosea tried to "go straight". They left their gang for nearly a year, trying to live right. They eventually came back. Hosea couldn't stay away for long. And Arthur wasn't sure if that meant from their lifestyle, or from them. Bessie told Arthur that Hosea always worried about him and Dutch. Arthur didn't quite understand, as he and Dutch were just fine. Dutch remained his mentor and father-figure and most of their jobs were a success. Although, Arthur did recall that without Hosea around Dutch was a lot more unpredictable with what he wanted and how they went about it. A lot more folk got hurt too.

Whatever the case, Bessie accepted what Hosea needed to do, and vowed to never leave him. Arthur hoped he could find someone like that one day.

"I always love watching you draw. Is that a boy?" Bessie asked.

Arthur nodded. "Yeah. Some little street goblin I ran into today that robbed me. Managed to get my satchel back, but he's still got my Pa's hat."

"Oh, yes. Hosea told me all about that." A quiet giggle escaped her lips.

Arthur nodded, his own laugh sounding. "Yeah, I bet he did."

"Your craft is getting better. I'm glad to see you're still doing it."

Arthur felt warmth on his cheeks, and was thankful the dusk around them and the snapping flames hid his embarrassment.

"Dutch got me into it, but really…it was Hosea that kept me goin'. He inspired me to keep tryin' when I wanted to give up on it. I ain't sure if I'm gettin' better or not, but it helps me get through the day."

Bessie squeezed his shoulder. "Trust me, you're improving. Keep at it."

Arthur felt his chest swell some, and he grinned. "Thanks."

She left him be. Arthur shaded his sketch with careful strokes. Soon, he got up, brushing his legs of grass and dirt. He put his journal inside his tent and took his bowl to the washing bin. He then went to check on the horses.

His head felt naked, and Arthur wondered if Hosea was right. He hoped they would run into the little street rat again so Arthur could get his hat back, and teach the boy some manners on top of it.

Once the horses were taken care of, he headed for his cot. He caught sight of Dutch and Hosea talking at the table near Dutch's tent. That wasn't anything new. The two could talk hours into the night about any number of things, mostly subjects Arthur wasn't too keen on. If not talking, the two partners-in-crime could often be seen playing cards.

Arthur knew them well enough by their body behavior whether they were approachable in their little huddle talks or not. Tonight, Arthur was caught off guard by the unmistakable tension between them. They glared at each other, mouths firm, looking like two dogs in a baring teeth competition on who was dominant.

Arthur rounded a tent and slipped across the way to get a closer look. It wasn't anything he hadn't seen before. The two best friends had their fair share of heated arguments over the years. Hell, Arthur knew that they fought more than Hosea did with Bessie. Despite that, he also knew there were few things the two would argue about, and so Arthur was curious.

He knew Dutch had a temper, was, in Arthur's opinion, more stubborn than an ass. Hosea was the only one with the gall to challenge that temper, and also the only one to quell it.

After a long, uncomfortable silence between the two men, Dutch folded with a sigh. "What do you want me to say?"

"Are you trying to prove a point?" Hosea growled.

Dutch snorted, playing with a knife. "If I was, his body wouldn't be in the river now, would it?"

"We ain't killers, Dutch. Mister Galligan didn't deserve it."

"Didn't deserve it?" His tone sharpened. "The fool almost got Arthur killed. He took the chance and ditched us. Took the money. Hell, the stagecoach had you pinned and it took everything I had to get you out before the law caught up, all the while fearing Arthur was dead over a cliffside."

Hosea thinned his lips, not looking at Dutch. "It could have been worked out. He was always a good source of information. Did you even get his side of the story?"

"What do you think I am?" Dutch sounded annoyed. "Course I tried talking to him. He drew a goddamn gun on me, is what he did. Now, I ain't nothing like you, Hosea. I can't stand it when I'm trying to make a deal or make amends and someone has the audacity to point a gun at me, especially if they almost got my family killed. I become a lot less nice. So yeah, I killed him. The only reason we even found him is because we got one of his friends to talk. He wasn't going to work out anything with us."

"You promised me."

Dutch nodded, scratching at his jaw with the blade. "I did. But I wasn't expecting a gun in my face neither. Sometimes we are killers, Hosea. Sometimes we have to kill to survive. Sometimes we have to kill fellers that need it. I'm not saying he needed it, but I am saying he put me in a position where I felt it was him or me. It damn well's gonna be him. _Every_. _Time_."

Hosea thrummed his fingers on the table. "Did he have the money on him?"

Dutch slowly dipped his head, staring straight at his old friend. "Nearly all of the $860 that was on the stagecoach. It's in the box."

"Did you at least hide the body well enough we won't get lynched while trying to work our angle on the Warrens?"

"I wasn't sloppy," Dutch said, his tone betraying a hint of frustration from Hosea's lingering uncertainty. "And if they do find the body, he was killed by wolves."

"He was killed by a wolf, alright."

Dutch narrowed his eyes. "Then he shouldn't have threatened my pack. Come now, brother. What else would you like me to say? What can I do to make it up to you? I did what I had to do."

Hosea rubbed his face, suddenly looking exhausted. No, defeated. He stood up. "Sorry, Dutch. I'm just…tired. You're right. I'm being difficult. I know you did what you had to do."

Dutch also stood, coming around and clapping Hosea on the shoulder. "I never said I liked it. I know it ain't nice. But they're my sins to bear, not yours, my friend. I will do whatever it takes to keep us safe, to keep us moving forward so we may accomplish our dreams. I'm really sorry for how it turned out."

Hosea patted Dutch's hand that was still on his shoulder, a weak smile creasing his face. "Yeah. There are some things we cannot control. Goodnight, dear friend."

"Goodnight."

Hosea left for his tent. Dutch watched him go. With a sigh, he pitched the knife he was holding, the blade piercing into the center of the table. Dutch disappeared inside his tent.

Arthur quietly went to his own bed, crawling inside to get ready for a much-needed night's rest. He kicked his boots off and laid on his pallet.

He was confused by their argument. They've killed people before, even Hosea has. They only ever killed bad people, or out of protection, but Arthur couldn't see what had Hosea so uneasy. Dutch had a point. Maybe Arthur was just being biased because the backstabbing fool did almost get him killed. Hosea was wise and always had good insight. Maybe he knew something Arthur didn't. That was likely. Arthur hoped he could be like Hosea one day.

* * *

"Well, what do you see, son?"

"Looks like…'bout a dozen ranch hands. Same 'mount of guards or more. It's a big place."

Arthur lowered his binoculars to look over at Dutch as he approached, having returned from his own scouting on the other side of the homestead.

Dutch wore dark pants, a dark blue vest and white dress shirt, and his typical black fedora. Arthur opted for far more casual wear, just simple brown pants, blue shirt and brown vest with a dark bandana around his neck.

They stood side by side, looking out across the field from their hiding spot within a bracket of brush and trees. The look on his mentor's face while he stroked his mustache was one Arthur knew quite well. Dutch was thinking on a plan.

"I went around to the back of the barn," he said. "There is a cellar, like you said. And it is heavily guarded."

"Wonder what they got down there," Arthur drawled, looking through his binoculars once more.

"Something valuable, that much is certain."

"Perhaps it's jus' dirty secrets. They seem like the kinda folk."

Dutch's lips quirked, almost birthing a smirk but it soon fell. "Perhaps. Only one way to find out."

Arthur gave him a look, blue-green eyes widening, brows reaching for his hairline. "We ain't goin' in there, are we?"

"You say that as if you don't have any faith in me, Arthur."

"But it's daylight! They'll see us comin' a mile away, and I don't know 'bout you, but I don't feel like gettin' shot today!"

Dutch chuckled, smacking Arthur on the back. "Relax, son. We'll go in tonight. Besides, Hosea is in the process of meeting the patriarch of this so-called "sophisticated" family. No doubt he'll be able to play him like a fiddle."

"Whatever you say, Dutch."

"C'mon. Let's head back into town. Susan and Bessie are looking into other angles. Let's go check on them."

Arthur put his binoculars away and followed Dutch to where their horses were hitched and hidden. They mounted up and took a trail back out towards Hickory.

"So, who're these Warren folks anyway?" Arthur asked.

"Just some inbred trash homesteaders that control the nearby town. Got innocent people working twice as much and twice as hard to afford their prices. Running other farmers out and taking over their land. Creating their own little government out here."

Arthur scowled. "So, we gonna rob 'em blind and leave then? That's the plan?"

"We should, but I have my own agenda."

"Uh, oh. I hate when you say that."

"Come now, Arthur. It should sicken you to see how these power-hungry, control freaks oppress these fine, innocent folks in Hickory. They need to be taught a lesson. They are exactly the kind of people we have vowed to fight against."

"We gonna teach 'em the same kind 'o lesson you taught Mister Galligan?"

Dutch flinched, a slight curl to his lip before his composure won out. He was always one hell of a poker player. "No, son. Mister Galligan was just an _unfortunate_ circumstance."

Arthur shrugged. "I didn't like the fool anyway."

"Even Hosea agrees these Warrens need a lesson of some sorts. They're greedy, power-hungry and make life hell for the good people here just trying to survive. No killing is required for such lessons."

"Sure, okay."

The town of Hickory was bustling now that it was closer to noon. The townsfolk hollered and greeted each other, horses trudged through the dirt roads attached to wagons. Rowdy calls and laughs came from the saloon as Arthur and Dutch hitched their horses.

Just as Dutch was about to speak, a nearby yell grabbed their attention. A boy shoved through a small throng of people, even hitting Arthur aside as he ran off.

"Someone get that thief! He took my wife's bag!"

It clicked and Arthur snapped into action, chasing after the boy who robbed him yesterday. Dutch called at his back. The kid slipped into an alleyway, quick and sure-footed. He looked over his shoulder, greasy long locks falling over his face as he ran. His eyes bugged out when he saw Arthur chasing him.

"Shit!" he cried.

"Shit is right, ya little mongrel! Get back 'ere!"

Arthur's hat was not on the boy's head. Arthur would catch the brat, give a lesson for stealing from a lady, and then make him give back his hat.

The thief used his surroundings against Arthur once more as he chased him through the town. Arthur couldn't believe how nimble the scraggly kid was. He weaved through people with ease, knocking supplies over as he went by to try and trip Arthur.

"Outta the damn way!"

Arthur barreled through people, getting gasps and agitated comebacks. Up ahead, the heathen hesitated at a cross-section behind some livestock pens, starting to go left but then spinning and darting right instead. The few seconds indecision enabled Arthur to catch up quick. The thief was going for a hole in a nearby barn, one that Arthur wouldn't be able to slip through.

Arthur dove, crashing onto ground and snatching the boy's legs. With a yelp, the boy tumbled down with him. The bag was dropped, food scattering across the dirt. Arthur kept an iron-grip on the boy's legs as he fought to get up.

"Got you, you little brat!"

"Let me go!"

"What the hell's yer problem, boy?! Stealin' from a lady?!"

Arthur got to his feet, keeping hold of the boy as he swung and kicked at him. Arthur dodged the blows, not wanting to end up like Hosea. The boy growled and fought like a wild animal. It made Arthur think back to a time he and Dutch got so drunk and Dutch dared him to catch a raccoon with his bare hands. It didn't end well.

"I'm gonna march you right back over there, and yer gonna apologize to that lady, and then yer gonna give me my hat back!"

"Over my dead body, mister!"

"Don't tempt me, boy!"

"What is going on over here?"

Arthur, still clinging to a growling, fighting boy, turned towards Dutch. The boy was strong for size. Dutch walked over, looking from Arthur, the boy, to the ground where food was strewn about.

"The boy needs a lesson, Dutch," Arthur grumbled. "This is the little rat that robbed me and gave Hosea a kick to remember."

"I ain't hurtin' anyone, let me go!"

Dutch tapped a can of fruit with his boot, the tin container rolling towards Arthur and the boy. Dutch's brows furrowed, watching it roll away, his eyes rising to the boy.

"Why you stealing, son?" Dutch asked, his tone gentle. "Where's your parents?"

"I ain't got any. And it ain't any of yer business why I steal, mister! Now let me go!"

He bit down on Arthur's hand. Hard. Arthur bellowed, letting him go and cursing out loud. He shook his hand of the pain. Blood trickled down little teeth marks on his skin.

"Goddammit, you little shit!"

The boy bolted for it when Arthur let him go, but he didn't get far before Dutch tripped him. As the boy jumped to his feet, Dutch grabbed his arms and pulled them behind his back, holding them sternly in place. Whenever the boy started to fight, Dutch tugged on an arm.

"Ow!"

"Don't make me break it, son," Dutch said. "Now…take a moment. Calm yourself. And let's talk like men, alright?"

"MEN?" Arthur hissed. "You see my goddamn hand? He's a wild animal!"

The boy stuck his tongue out at Arthur and Arthur stomped over to wipe it right off his face, but Dutch came between them. "Knock it off, both of you."

Arthur reluctantly obeyed, glaring at the boy. Dutch heaved a sigh, kneeling to be closer to the thief's height, but still keeping a firm hold on his arms.

"What's your name, son?"

The boy groaned, agitated. "John. John Marston."

"Where are your parents? What are you doing here?"

Dutch motioned for Arthur to pick up the food. Begrudgingly, Arthur gathered the food and put it back in the bag.

"I said I ain't got any, mister. I-I'm just tryin' to get by, now leave me alone!"

Dutch stood his full height, one strong fist still binding the boy's arms behind his back while the other took the bag from Arthur. He held it in front of the boy, slowly letting him go. John quickly moved his arms around, balling bony fists like he was about to fight Dutch.

"If you're going to continue stealing, you need to get better at it. Don't let anyone see you," Dutch said. "Being negligent gets you hanged."

John stared wide-eyed up at Dutch then to the bag that was presented to him. He looked uncertain, as if Dutch was playing a trick. Hell, Arthur was gawking, couldn't believe Dutch was rewarding the little wild heathen.

John snatched the bag and took off, slipping through the hole in the barn. Dutch and Arthur watched him go. Arthur glared at Dutch, jaw open, appalled. Dutch's lips twitched a gentle smile, amused at the whole situation.

"Really?!"

"Aw, c'mon. He kinda reminded me of you when I first found you."

Dutch started heading back towards the saloon. Arthur paced at his side, still offended that Dutch let the little vermin go.

"What?! Yer crazy, I didn't bite people! Look at this! I might get a disease or sumthin'! And he still has my hat!"

"And you weren't unruly?" Dutch scoffed. "The boy is obviously just trying to survive, Arthur. You heard him. He has no parents, probably doesn't have anyone that gives a damn for him. Give him some slack."

"Well sure, but…he bit me."

Dutch shook his head, chuckling. "Such is life, my son. We've been lucky to not get more than that so far."

"You weren't the one who got bit."

"Do I need to take you to a doctor?"

"Maybe. I'll let ya know if I start frothin' at the mouth or growlin' at thangs."

Dutch rolled his eyes, opening the saloon door for Arthur. "So dramatic, Arthur. It's a boy, not a raccoon."

"I ain't so sure."

"You're still a kid yourself sometimes. You'll like kids one day."

"I like kids jus' fine. It's wild heathens that bite I ain't too fond of. You've always had a soft spot for kids, Dutch. I shoulda known you would reward the little shit."

Dutch laughed at that.

They found Susan in the saloon chatting it up with some older gentlemen. She wore a dark blue dress and had her hair down. They didn't make contact with her as she worked, and Dutch led Arthur over to the bar to get some drinks. Arthur lit a match on his boot and puffed on a cigarette while their drinks were poured.

The saloon had a good number of customers sitting at tables drinking and visiting. The clanking of glasses and shuffling of cards mixed with ongoing chatter, creating a constant noise.

"Wonder where Bessie's at?" Arthur asked, keeping his voice low.

"Not sure. She should show up soon," Dutch replied, eyes constantly studying the habitat.

"Ya think Hosea is makin' any headway?"

"Course he is. It's Hosea."

Arthur nodded. Dutch had a point. In this line of work, Hosea was probably the slyest one of them all. Arthur was sure his other father-figure could swindle a grizzly bear out of its pelt if given the chance.

Just as Arthur snuffed out his cigarette at the counter, they saw Bessie enter the saloon. Like Susan, she also wore a dress, but her red hair was up. She didn't make eye contact with Dutch or Arthur, instead walking over to Susan to greet her company with a charming smile.

Dutch downed his shot and started for the exit. Arthur hurried to finish his drink and followed. He tried to tip his hat at a table of young ladies near the door, but his head was still bare, and so he ended up just rubbing his head awkwardly. He really needed to get his hat back.

"Ladies."

They giggled as he passed. He met Dutch by the horses outside. His father-figure handed him the reins to his horse.

"Alright, Bessie showed up. Means she'll be pulling Susan away soon. We should head back to camp, they'll be close behind. Hosea will meet us there as well."

"Okay," Arthur said as he climbed onto his horse.

He and Dutch rode out of Hickory, Arthur letting his eyes scan for the boy thief once more. Dutch kicked his horse into a gallop and so Arthur matched his speed.

They had moved their camp closer to town earlier that morning. So instead of a couple hour ride into town, it was only half an hour. It was a hidden location up on a ridge that overlooked the town and the surrounding prairie, in a thick shielding of trees and brush.

Nearly an hour after Dutch and Arthur returned to camp, Susan and Bessie rode in. Dutch and Arthur were discussing the meaning of an entry in the Evelyn Miller book that Dutch was currently reading.

Although they grew quiet, they didn't get up to greet the women. Arthur's head spun from the discussion while Dutch had his legs propped up on the table smoking a pipe.

"Ladies, tell me you found something worthwhile," Dutch greeted, blowing out smoke.

"Depends what you consider worthwhile," Miss Grimshaw said, crossing her arms. "Did I find out these Warren folks are nothing but degenerate bullies taking advantage of people? Yes…yes, I did. Now, I looked into the livestock auctioning they have. We do not have the manpower to handle that unfortunately."

Arthur scratched his cheek. "I didn't think so, but thought I should mention it anyways."

"I found out they keep a lot of cash at the gunsmith," Bessie announced. "They're well stocked on high-end guns as well. I'm not too fond of it being guns, but they will sell for quite a bit. It's more secure than other stores in town, but Susan and I were talking…would be quite easy to stir up a distraction to get in there."

"Guns?" Dutch asked, a discreet smirk tugging on his lips. "Interesting…well done, ladies. As soon as Hosea is back and he fills us in on what he's found, we'll get to planning."

* * *

The rest of the day dawdled by as they waited for Hosea. Arthur went out hunting and came back with a few rabbits. As Susan and Bessie prepared them for supper, the sun crept closer and closer to the horizon.

Bessie kept glancing to the entrance of the camp, wondering where her husband was at. Arthur started wondering himself as he scribbled away in his journal. It wasn't like Hosea to take this long. Arthur put his journal away and started the fire for the cooking, noticing the growing unease of Dutch's behavior.

Their leader started pacing by the time the sun dipped into the earth, bringing forth a nippy dusk. Dutch was tense, restless, dark eyes on the entrance to the camp at all times as he chewed on a cigar.

Arthur sighed, getting up and dusting himself off, knowing he needed to go over there and pacify him. He wasn't as confident about the endeavor as he should be. This was Hosea's job, after all.

The women gave him looks as he passed by them going for Dutch, and Arthur, for some reason, felt like a knight approaching a smoldering dragon.

"Hey."

Dutch barely glanced at him. "It isn't like him to do this. Something is wrong."

Arthur thought his words carefully. He didn't want to incite Dutch into doing something reckless. "Nah, we don't know that for sure. Hosea's fine. Probably still charmin' 'em with his charades."

Dutch tapped his fingers on his revolver. "Come on, brother, or so help me God, I will kill them all."

The horses lifted their heads from grazing to gape at the camp entrance, ears flicking forward. A nicker sounded, a familiar horse trotted into camp and Arthur was relieved to see Hosea on its back. He hitched his horse, Bessie hurrying over and hugging him.

Dutch relaxed next to Arthur, sighing in relief. His hand dropped from his gun belt. His calm demeanor soon returned and Arthur felt he too could relax now. He had been worried about Hosea also.

"See? He's fine."

Dutch ignored him, smiling as Hosea approached. "My dear friend, where have you been?"

Hosea rubbed his temple, looking exhausted. "Hanging out with 'ol Mister Randy Warren, he's quite a fellow. Sorry for worrying you two, but I had to make it believable."

"We weren't worried, were we Arthur?" Dutch asked, smacking his protege on the arm. "We knew you could handle yourself."

Arthur closed his eyes, mildly shaking his head, a light smile rising on his lips.

Hosea gave them a skeptical glare, lips thinning. "Uh huh, sure. Arthur's look of panic I saw riding into camp and your look of murder told me everything."

Dutch shrugged, a weak chuckle escaping his throat. "I can't pull the wool over your eye, can I, brother? Forgive me, for I care too much."

Hosea tossed his gloves onto the nearby table. "I'm getting some food, then we need to discuss the Warrens."

* * *

 **A/N: I don't know why, but I headcanon that kid John Marston was an unruly, difficult kid when first brought into the van der Linde gang. xD I have more RDR fics brewing in my brain while I am writing this one. But this one should be finished around 5-7 chapters. Anyway, hope you are all enjoying it so far! Have a great week! :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

"Come on, Arthur!"

"No way, Hosea!"

"It's the simplest routine, I swear it."

"I ain't dressin' up again. Make Dutch do it!"

"Dutch has his own part to play."

Arthur kept his back to them, arms folded tight, a hard scowl on his face. He could hear Dutch stifling a chuckle, knew he had that shit-eating grin on his face as he sat with his legs propped up on the table.

"You're no help, Dutch," Hosea said. He sighed in exasperation, waving Arthur off and turning around with his hands on his hips.

Dutch chuckled. "I'm sorry. I think you traumatized poor Arthur last time, Hosea."

Hosea faced them after Arthur turned around. "So, the last charade got a little out of hand. It wasn't that bad. I mean…all things considered."

"A LITTLE?" Arthur countered. "I had to wear a goddamn dress to get outta there! That or go stark naked. I regret not goin' naked."

Dutch flicked ash from his cigar. "For what it's worth, Arthur. It was a very nice dress."

"Shut up, Dutch."

His mentor choked on smoke from his cigar as he laughed. A cough spluttered between his snickers as he stood and waved the smoke away, leaving for his tent.

Hosea held up his hands. "No dresses, I swear. Just a nicer set of clothes and a simple character script to follow."

Arthur groaned. "Can't ya jus' leave me to the shootin'?"

Hosea shook his head. "No, no shooting. These people need a different kind of lesson, Arthur. You heard me earlier. They started the fire in Andell. They're running competition out of Hickory. They're making plans to get tracks built this way. People are livin' poorly 'round here because of them. The sheriff and mayor are in cahoots with 'em. And they have a lot of money. This would be the biggest score we've done in a while. But I need you to help us do it _right_."

Arthur groaned. "Fiiiiine, okay."

Hosea beamed, patting Arthur's arm. "That's my boy! This will be a good one. I can feel it."

"What 'bout them guns and money at the gunsmith? Dutch wants 'em."

"I'm still trying to talk him out of that. We can't do both. It's too dangerous. My plan will get us more money…put us in a position where we can teach this family a lesson. But you know Dutch. Once he wants something, it's hard to talk him out of it."

Arthur snorted. "Yeah, think yer the only one with the grit to handle that job."

"You better learn. One day I won't be around."

Arthur gave him a look. "Whatcha talkin' 'bout? You'll probably outlive us all, Hosea. Besides, you 'n Dutch…well, yer like a package. Can't see havin' only one of ya 'round. Wouldn't be…right. I've never been one to believe in fate 'n all that, but when I listen to the stories 'bout how ya'll met, what you've gone through together and where we are now, I can't help but to believe in it."

Hosea's smile was genuine, warm as he nodded. "Bessie says I'm the Yin to his Yang."

Arthur scrunched his eyebrows as they saw Dutch emerge from his tent rolling his shoulders. "The hell's that s'pose to mean?"

"The light to his darkness."

"So…did Hosea manage to coax you into our little burlesque?" Dutch asked.

Arthur sighed. "I reckon so. I'd rather be shot at."

"You'll do fine." Dutch's tone was playful but affectionate. "We're gonna rob these bastards of all their money and teach 'em a lesson. After that, we'll be heading west for a while."

"Bout damn time."

Hosea squeezed his arm, his eyes shining with more affection and respect than Arthur's blood father had ever showed him his whole life. "Get some rest, son. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow."

"Sure."

* * *

Arthur spent the morning hours with Bessie and Susan testing distractions on certain stores in town, most notably the gunsmith, which held quite a bit of money and high-end guns belonging to the Warrens. Although Hosea was able to talk Dutch out of the heist to instead go after the Warrens at their homestead, Dutch still wanted a "backup" job, in case something went wrong.

Arthur wasn't fooled. Dutch just wanted the guns, plain and simple. He didn't blame his father-figure though. He felt it would be less of a risk with the gun store. And even though they had plenty of weapons between them, they did need _better_ ones.

By late afternoon, Arthur cleaned himself up and dressed according to Hosea's directions. He put on his best pants and boots, a white long-sleeved button up shirt with a gray vest and a matching jacket. He put on a trilby hat, despite preferring his usual cowboy hat.

The women remained at camp and Arthur rode back into Hickory to meet Dutch and Hosea at the saloon. He saw their horses hitched out front, but when he entered the crowded bar, he didn't see them anywhere.

He walked over to the bartender in the back, his eyes scanning the main room and all the faces for his mentors. "S'cuse me, Mister. I'm lookin' fer a couple of friends 'o mine. One's a tall, dark-haired feller, dressed proper. And an older gentleman with blond hair. Supposed to be havin' drinks with a Mister Warren?"

The bartender nodded as he wiped a glass with a cloth. "Yessir. They went upstairs to the lounge. Go right on up, they're waitin' on ya."

"Much obliged."

Arthur took the stairs, the wood creaking below his feet as he went up to the second floor. It wasn't long before he heard some guffaws echoing down his way as he turned the corner into the lounge. He saw Dutch and Hosea on one sofa and three gentlemen across from them on another. Each of them had drinks on the table in the center.

Hosea's arms were animated, face a little red, as he told some random funny story that Arthur had heard a million times. Dutch caught sight of Arthur first and waved him over.

"And I said to the feller, don't you think the misses will be missin' you? And he says 'of course, she's been missin' me for a whole goddamn year'!"

The men laughed again. Arthur smiled. Hosea had them reeled in good already. Dutch stood, offering Arthur a seat between him and Hosea.

"There he is! Come have a seat lad. Mr. Warren, this is Mr. Fenton's nephew, Benjamin."

Arthur nodded, reaching across to shake the middle man's hand. He was an older gentleman with graying brown hair, glasses and a trimmed beard and mustache. He wore a blue suit. With him were younger men, one looking to be around Arthur's age of early twenties, the other a bit older.

"Gentlemen," Arthur greeted.

"Excuse my nephew's tardiness, he was never good with time," Hosea said, then turned to Arthur after he sat. "Benjamin, this is Mr. Randy Warren and his sons Troy and Lester."

By the introduction, the older one was Troy. Arthur logged it away.

The older man smiled, waving them off as he took a drink out of his whiskey glass. "It's not a problem, my friend. I am just pleased you were able to take some time out of your busy schedules passing through my humble town to talk with me. I only wish the best for Hickory."

"You know," Dutch said, puffing on a cigar. "It was such a shame to hear about Andell. But this town…I like it better. I know why you wish the tracks to be built out this way. The growth and grandeurs it could see!"

Mr. Warren nodded, a sleazy grin forming on his thin lips. "Exactly. So much potential here, Mr. Smith. I just haven't had much luck convincing your friends."

"Well sure it's a little out of the way, but they just haven't seen it," Hosea added. "The land, the people here. It's very promising. I know our friends like to get caught up in their contracts and regulations, but I'm thinking…Archibald and I could do a little convincing."

"Oh, Samuel," Dutch chuckled, flicking ash away. "Not just a little…I'll damn well write the new railroad contract myself if I have to!"

"Shall we take a walk around town? I have an area that could make a nice station you should see," Mr. Warren suggested.

Dutch stamped his cigar out and stood, prompting Arthur and Hosea to follow his lead. "Of course, my friend. Lead the way."

The Warren patriarch ushered his sons ahead and they took the stairs down to the first floor of the saloon. Mr. Warren looked Arthur over as they followed Troy and Lester.

"So, Benjamin, do you travel with your uncle often?" he asked.

Arthur nodded, glancing at Hosea. "Sure, quite often, sir. Doin' some apprenticeship under him. He's good at makin' money and lots of it."

Mr. Warren grinned. "Of course, of course. Well, you know what they say. Money makes the world go 'round."

"That it does!" Hosea agreed.

Once outside the saloon, Mr. Warren and his sons guided Arthur, Dutch, and Hosea through town. Mr. Warren pointed out each business and a few important people. He told a brief history of Hickory and how his family made their wealth.

Arthur tried to stay focused. The dull talk bored him, but he had a part to play.

They went to the southwest side of town, near the post office. Here, Mr. Warren pointed out the area where the tracks could come in from Chicago, and the station they could build. Hosea played his part, using his steps to measure out the area while Mr. Warren and Dutch discussed the layout of the station. Troy and Lester looked bored to the side, watching as townsfolk meandered nearby.

"Well, what d'ya think, Mr. Fenton?" Dutch asked as Hosea returned to them.

"It's promising. Not much leveling needed. It's a bit big of a station than what they would like for a small town, but…I'm sure we could come up with an agreement."

"I am, of course, willing to adjust my offer to make it work. I have plenty of money. All I need is a contract and some hard-working men to get it done. We can discuss it over dinner, perhaps? How about you gentlemen come to my home for dinner tomorrow before you return to Chicago? You said you had your wives with you, yes? They can come too."

"Oh, I'm not so sure-"

"It would be my pleasure, Mr. Smith. I promise, you won't regret it."

The sly grin on Dutch's face told Arthur everything. He and Hosea had Mr. Warren where they wanted him.

"Sure, friend. We'll tell our dear wives. Tomorrow it is then."

He shook Mr. Warren's hand. The patriarch also shook Hosea's and Arthur's hands, grinning.

"Thank you, gentlemen. I look forward to discussing the future of Hickory with you tomorrow. Have a good evening."

They watched as Mr. Warren and his sons left. Soon, Arthur, Dutch, and Hosea headed back towards the saloon to fetch their horses.

"Ain't he the greediest son of a bitch you ever met, Hosea?" Dutch asked.

"He's up there. He acts all nice, but he sure looks down on most folks. He doesn't care about all the lives he's ruined from destroying Andell and making it look like an accident. And let's not forget all the folks he ran out of business here in his own town just to get more power."

They mounted up and rode for camp. Arthur was ready to get out of fancy clothes and go back to being comfortable.

"So, what kind of lesson we givin' this feller anyway?"

"While we are robbing him tomorrow, I know exactly where to find all of his blackmail letters and the proof that he was behind the burning of Andell. We'll turn it into the next town over and be gone," Hosea answered.

"What kinda lesson is that? We've never done things that way."

Dutch stayed quiet ahead of them on the path as their horses trotted farther and farther from Hickory. Arthur looked to Hosea, skeptical of the way he chose to handle this.

Hosea took off his hat to rub his head, sighing. "I know it's not something we usually do, but trust me. It's the only tasteful way to do it. It will destroy the Warren family without anyone getting killed. Dutch ain't a fan of it either, but any other way we risk getting ourselves or other people killed."

Arthur frowned. "If you say so, Hosea."

* * *

Once they arrived in camp, it was starting to get late. Arthur changed his clothes and jumped back on his horse to go out hunting. He spotted Dutch reading a book while Hosea and Bessie played dominoes. Susan knitted nearby. There was plans for them all to play poker and drink tonight, and so Arthur was eager to get the hunting done to enjoy it.

He rode his horse down by the river on the east side of Hickory where he remembered seeing some wild turkey. It was too late to cut up a deer, and fishing would take too long. So, it was either turkey or more rabbits.

Once near the river, he spotted a small flock. Holding up his rifle, he lined one up and shot it dead. He trailed his scope to another as it ran for the brush and shot it down as well. He rode his horse over to the area and jumped off. He tied both turkeys to the saddle of his horse.

As he went to mount up, he heard voices. There was splashing and yelling coming from the river. Arthur left his horse to go check it out. He slung his rifle over his shoulder but kept his hand ready on his revolver.

He came out of the trees, the river not far from him. The water glinted off a red and orange sky as the sun dipped below the horizon. Two men were dunking something in and out of the water, their voices loud and angry.

A boy came up from the water, gasping for air only to be shoved down again.

"This is what ya get for stealin' from us, you little tramp!" One man yelled, the water going up to his knees.

Arthur couldn't believe it at first. It was the boy that stole his hat, the one that Dutch let go with a bag of stolen food. John Marston. These men…they were drowning him.

"Hey!"

Their heads snapped around, and they stood up quick. The boy came up for air, coughing and drenched.

"What the hell you doin'? Let the kid go!" Arthur snapped.

"Stay outta this, mister. This doesn't concern you."

"It sure as hell does concern me when you're drownin' a goddamn little boy! Get away from him."

"We're teachin' him a lesson for stealin'. You need a lesson too, boy?"

Arthur lumbered right over to them, fists clenched. Arthur may have been younger, but he towered over the men.

"I'm ready fellas. I betchu I hit a whole lot harder, so ya better make yer swings count."

The two men came out of the water and at him. Arthur dodged the first swing, nailing the first man with a hard punch to the stomach. He yelped, bending in pain. He felt a hit to the face from the other, but it hardly fazed him. Arthur grabbed the man, clipping him several times in the face before kicking him away to miss a throw from the second fella.

He was backhanded, a sting radiating across his face. Arthur grabbed the man's hand, breaking several fingers and kicking him in the thigh. The man stumbled with a cry, and Arthur seized him. He plunged him into the river, water splashing onto Arthur's face. The second man jumped on his back as he held his friend under.

Arthur swung his head back, busting the fella's face. He let go of his submerged opponent to grab his friend once more, bashing his fist several times into the rib cage and tossing him onto the ground.

The men moaned in pain. The soaked one ran first. His friend struggled to get to his feet before he also ran off.

"I better not see yer goddamn faces 'round here again!" Arthur hollered.

He turned to John. The boy was now out of the water, drenched and shaking. He held himself, staring wide-eyed at the water.

"You okay, boy?"

His head swung around, eyes still wide and Arthur could tell he was terrified. "W-What?"

"I said are you okay?"

"They…almost drowned me."

"It's alright. They're gone now."

John coughed, shivering. His body sat in mud, water dripping off in streams from dark locks, and too scared and exhausted to move.

Arthur scratched his head, looking around. He felt for the boy. Dutch was right. He didn't have anyone. And whether he stole his hat or not, Arthur wasn't about to damn him to such a fate. He was just a kid.

"Come on, let's go."

"Go? G-Go w-where?"

"You need a safe place to rest. You need to get warm and dry and fed. Come on, git'up."

"I thought…you hated me."

"I dislike you. It's different. But I ain't 'bout to leave ya here after that. Now come on."

Arthur whistled for his horse. He heard the gelding's nicker, and he came out of the trees to canter over to them. Arthur patted the horse's neck, watching as John slowly rose to his feet. He helped the shivering boy up onto his horse and them mounted himself.

Arthur kicked his horse into a gallop. "Yaw!"

John clenched fingers on Arthur's shirt to hold on. "W-Where ya t-takin' me?"

"Back to my camp. I reckon the women would like havin' a kid to take care of for a bit. The man you kicked, and the man that let you go with the food, well, they're there too."

"Oh."

"You ever stay outta trouble, boy? Every time I've met you, you're causin' a ruckus."

"I'm…just tryin' to survive, mister."

"Call me Arthur."

"T-Thank…you."

Arthur looked down at him, the boy was completely up against him as he shook and held on tight. It was a sad sight. Arthur sighed, not liking that he felt pity for the boy.

When they returned to camp, Arthur got off his horse first and hitched him. He held his arms out for the boy. Shaky and weak, John took his hands to be helped down. Soon Dutch, Hosea, Susan, and Bessie came around, having noticed the newcomer on Arthur's horse.

"Miss Grimshaw, Mrs. Matthews, could you please take care of him? He's been through a lot."

Bessie nodded, holding her hand out with a caring smile. "Come on, sweetie. Let's get you dry and warm."

John hesitantly took her hand and she led him away with Susan.

"What the hell happened?" Dutch asked.

"Some lowlifes tried to drown the kid for stealin'," Arthur answered. "Bad business…He's lucky I was nearby."

"These men…they still with us?" Hosea asked, his eyes sharp as he watched his wife draped a blanket over John.

"Yeah, but they're hurtin' bad. I think they'll think twice next time."

Dutch patted Arthur's back, also scowling. "That's my boy. Who does that to a child? I do not understand people sometimes."

"Me neither," Hosea said, shaking his head. "Good job, Arthur. Come on, you and me can get these turkeys ready to cook. That boy needs a good meal."

Arthur nodded. "Sure."

"I'll get the fire started," Dutch said.

Arthur and Hosea prepped the turkeys and cooked them over the fire. John was stripped of his clothes to dry and was wrapped in a thick blanket near the fire. He was no longer shaking, but looked shy and uncomfortable. Arthur wasn't sure if it was the same boy he met back in Hickory at first. His demeanor was completely different.

Bessie handed John a mug of hot tea to drink. When they finally sat down around the campfire to eat, John scarfed his plate down like a starving animal. Bessie and Susan exchanged concerned looks. Miss Grimshaw got up and made him another plate. John eagerly ate that plate clean also.

Arthur took a drink of coffee, looking over at his father-figures. Hosea studied the boy quietly while he ate. Dutch kept a close eye on John, thinking deeply. It wasn't a distrustful look, but a curious one. Arthur wondered if Dutch was thinking back to the time he and Hosea found him in a similar manner.

"John, correct?" Dutch asked.

After scarfing down a third plate, he gulped the rest of his tea. "Yes, sir."

"What's your story, John?"

The boy looked anxiously between them. "Why?"

"We just want to get to know you, son. We mean you no harm," Hosea reassured.

John lowered his eyes to the campfire, pulling the blanket over his head so that only his face peeked out. "Well I…I came from a bigger city. Was in an orphanage for a while after my Pa died. I ran away to try 'n live on my own. I…I killed a man, b-but he started it! He attacked me, I was just defendin' myself. I got scared and hid on a wagon til I got here. Been tryin' to make it on my own here since."

"And how long has that been?" Hosea asked.

John shrugged, frowning. "I-I don't know. A long time it feels like."

Arthur closed his eyes, feeling a pain in his chest. He was reminded of his own rough beginnings. He felt sorry for the boy. He understood now. John's terrible demeanor was just a defense mechanism, much like his own unruliness when Dutch and Hosea first found him. He could see a scared, lonely little boy before him now, huddled under a blanket after nearly drowning.

"I ain't never meant to harm no one. I'm just tryin' to survive."

Dutch stepped over to the boy, kneeling before him. He slipped the blanket from off the top of his head, the boy looking up at him with wide eyes.

"I'm sorry for what you've had to endure, son. But you are _safe_ here. We won't let anyone harm you. You don't have to starve while you are here. Are you still hungry?"

John sheepishly nodded.

"Miss Grimshaw, could you get this fine young lad another plate?"

"Of course, Dutch."

Dutch rubbed John's head, inciting the first smile they had seen on the boy. "Relax, son. You're one of us."

John took the fourth helping from Susan and shoveled it without any manners. Dutch chuckled. Arthur shook his head, picking at his plate. Bessie and Hosea exchanged loving looks, holding hands.

* * *

Once night fell and they were fed and the chores were done, Arthur lit a cigarette and found Dutch at the table outside his tent. He puffed on a pipe, feet propped up on the table and eyes to the stars while deep in thought. Arthur could hear Hosea joking with Susan and Bessie near the campfire. The last time Arthur saw John was at the fire as well, but when he looked, he didn't see the boy.

"Whatcha thinkin', Dutch?"

"Dreaming, Arthur," Dutch said. "Dreaming of the west. I cannot wait to head that way."

"Me neither."

"We are going to make our own future, Arthur. No civilization, no matter how powerful or corrupt, will _tame_ us."

"If only we could fight it. Y'know…stop it."

"Oh, we could, son. If we had enough people who believe just as we do. Stand for what we do. Until then, we will just have to make do fighting evil in our own way."

"Like the Warrens?"

"Yes, like the Warrens. Although, I desire a bit more of an edge to their lesson, Hosea's way is safer for us…but far from fulfilling."

"If you say so, Dutch."

"You wanted the guns as well, didn't you?"

Arthur flicked his cigarette, blowing smoke as he sat down across from Dutch. "I did at first, yeah. But if Hosea says the way we're doin' this now is better then I believe him. We can always get more guns, Dutch."

"Sure," Dutch said, his foot tapping impatiently for a moment. "It's a shame we do not have the manpower yet to do both. I have a good feeling on what's in there."

"Are you implyin' we do that instead of Hosea's way?" Arthur asked.

Dutch glared at him, smoke billowing from his lips. "Why would you say that?"

Arthur tensed, unsure what he had said to upset Dutch. "No reason. I didn't mean nothin' by it."

He looked away, but heard Dutch heave a sigh. "Sorry, son. I-I'm just a little…worried about tomorrow, is all. We are still putting ourselves in a dangerous position. I don't want anyone to get hurt."

Arthur relaxed, nodding. "Sure, I understand. I'll do my best."

"I know you will. There's no one I trust more than you and Hosea. The three of us? Well, we'll make history together. We'll fight for what we believe in, fight for a bright future. Together. We are _family_."

Dutch rubbed his temple as he slid his feet off the table and stood. He came around the table, putting a hand on Arthur's shoulder.

"Goodnight, son."

"G'night, Dutch."

Arthur got up as Dutch disappeared into his tent. He yawned, feeling exhaustion come over him also. Susan's tent was closed and he could see Hosea and Bessie sitting by the fire. Hosea pointed up at the stars but he couldn't hear what they were saying.

Arthur headed for his tent. He popped his neck and rolled his shoulders, feeling the aches of the day.

"Rah!"

Arthur leapt out of his skin as the boy jumped out at him from behind a barrel. "Jesus Christ, boy! What the hell was that for?!"

John laughed, the blanket still wrapped around him. "Scared you!"

"You didn't scare me. You startled me. There's a difference."

Arthur pushed past him. He felt John following him. "Whaddya want, kid?"

"I was listenin' to you talk with Mr. Dutch. He's not much older than you, but he calls you son a lot."

Arthur rounded on him. "You eavesdropped?!"

"Yeah, so? It's not like I'm gonna go tell anyone."

Arthur sighed, waving him off and ambling over to his tent. He glared at John when he was followed.

"So, why does he call you son?"

Arthur impatiently rubbed his eye, sharply inhaling. "It's 'cause he found me, similar like you, and raised me. Him and Hosea."

"What do ya guys do? Are you bad guys? Do you kill people? What lesson're you givin' the Warrens?"

Arthur groaned. "No, I mean, kinda…I mean…listen, boy. We rob bad people, teach 'em lessons if we have to. We don't kill unless we have to."

"So, you're gonna rob the Warrens and teach 'em a lesson for bein' so mean?"

"Maybe."

"Why does Mr. Dutch want the guns from the gun store?"

"I don't know, kid."

John looked curiously back towards Dutch's tent, thinking. Arthur pushed him away from his tent.

"Hosea and Bessie got you yer own place to sleep. Now git along."

John gave him a mild glare. There it was. That's the face of the boy that took his hat. John kicked the dirt and hobbled over to his pallet that was near the fire.

Arthur shook his head with sigh, crawling into his tent. He kicked off his boots and laid down on his own pallet. He turned about until he got comfortable and fell asleep.

He awoke to being hot a couple hours later. Blinking sleep from his eyes, the dying campfire cast a dull light into his tent. He saw John huddled up against him asleep.

"Goddamn it," Arthur hissed under his breath.

He was about to shove the boy off of him, but then stopped himself. John looked…content. He looked innocent right then and there as he slept peacefully. Scowling, Arthur grumbled and gave up, planting his head back on his makeshift pillow to go back to sleep.

* * *

 **A/N: Almost done with this short multi-fic now. I'm working on another RDR2 fic as well, I hope to upload after Christmas. We will see! ^^' We got to see a little bonding with Arthur and John, d'awww. Anyways, hope you guys are enjoying the story so far, and I hope everyone has a HAPPY HOLIDAY!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

"Arthur."

Arthur stirred, the voice soft and distant. He turned over, yawning and pulling his blanket closer to his face.

"Arthur!"

He groaned. "What…"

A kick smacked his leg, and he awoke instantly. He sat up with a grunt, rubbing his face. "Sonova bitch, Hosea. What?!"

"The boy? Have you seen him?"

"Not since last night," Arthur mumbled, crawling out of his tent with a loud yawn. "He-" Arthur bit his tongue, suddenly red-faced and not daring to openly admit John crawled into his tent last night. The ribbing he would receive would be torturous. "He was asleep on his pallet, but that's the last I saw him. Why, what's goin' on?"

He saw Bessie and Susan looking around camp, their hushed voices exchanging as their eyes bounced around spot to spot.

Arthur pulled on his boots and looked around. He noticed the camp's provisions compartment was open and food and cans laid about. He put two and two together and glared at Hosea.

"That little gremlin stole from us and ran?!"

"Well…we don't know, but it's sure as hell lookin' like it," Hosea answered. He had a hand on his hip, his fingers tapping restlessly as he thought. "Dutch ain't missing anything personal, and neither are the women. I didn't find anything of mine misplaced. How about you?"

Arthur stooped back down into his tent, digging around. "Shit! Yeah, my gun 'n my knife're gone!"

He stood up straight, cursing under his breath. "After what I did for that little shit. I'm gon' skin his hide now!"

"You'll do no such thing."

Dutch's tone was final as he came around, dark eyes scanning over the camp. Arthur felt himself bow up in response, but Hosea gripped his shoulder.

"That damn kid took my hat, and now my gun 'n knife. He took food. He took advantage of us after I saved his ass! I shoulda let him drown!"

"You don't mean that," Hosea said.

"Damn straight I do."

Dutch jabbed a finger into his chest. "I raised you better than that, son. He's just a boy. You were in his shoes at one time, now would you goddamn think about that?"

Arthur released a tight breath, deflating. "Fine…I take it back. But I'm gonna beat some sense into him for sure."

"You're taking it too personal, Arthur."

"Well, 'course I am, Dutch. He took my stuff after I saved him from drownin'."

"Exactly."

Arthur gave Dutch a look, and then side-glanced Hosea, confused. "What the hell does that even mean?"

Hosea gave a wry smile, patting Arthur on the arm. "Think what Dutch is trying to say, Arthur, is that John took your stuff because he likes you. You saved his life, he…he admires you. The boy asked a bunch of questions about you last night when you were off doin' chores."

"Ya'll make no sense. That's a stupid reason to take my stuff."

"Oh really?" Dutch rounded, folding his arms. "Hosea…what happened to your favorite satchel you had for ten years?"

"Arthur took it."

"Hey!"

"Well? Am I lying?"

"No…"

"Dutch, I recall you had a gun holster you were quite fond of."

"Oh, shut up, that's completely different. I knew you fellas for a while before I took 'em and you knew 'bout it! Besides, he took my hat before all that!"

"Okay, fine. Then care to explain why he was huddled up to you in your tent last night? It was quite adorable."

Arthur went white as a ghost, stuttering as Dutch smirked his way. "T-That t-that's nothin' to do with it! The little monster was just cold!"

Hosea elbowed Dutch with a wink. "Are you sure? You two looked like precious brothers sleeping."

"You g-got it all wrong! I-I shoved him back outside!"

"Sure you did, Arthur," Hosea said.

Arthur very much wanted to slam his head into a tree right now.

Dutch sighed. "Well, ain't much we can do about it. Lost cause for now."

"Whaddya mean? I'll mount up and go find the little heathen right now."

Dutch pinched his nose. "We have a job to do, Arthur. We can't risk blowing our cover searching all over town for a boy. We get this score done with the Warrens and then we'll look."

"Little shit will be long gone by then."

"No, he won't," Hosea chimed. "He'll stick around. He has nowhere else to go at the moment."

"I'll send Miss Grimshaw and Mrs. Matthews into town to search and ask around for a limited time, but that's all I can allow."

"Fine. I just want my stuff back."

"Are you not even a little bit curious on why he took your stuff and left?"

"Not in the slightest."

"Aw, my dear boy. Are you gonna sulk all day? Do you need a hug?"

"You're a real piece of work, Dutch."

Dutch whistled at the women, beckoning them before looking back at Arthur. "I need you focused today, Arthur. We'll deal with this after. Do as Hosea says, alright?"

"Sure, Dutch."

Dutch left to go speak with Susan and Bessie. Hosea nodded towards a nearby table with a small smile.

"C'mon, son. We have a lot of planning to do. We want this to go right tonight, so we'll need to plan out every detail."

* * *

"Are you sure it's there?"

"Yes, I was at their house all day. It's there, Arthur."

Arthur scratched his head. "Why me? You got slicker hands, Hosea."

"Dutch and I will be their center of attention. You can do it, Arthur. You've done it lots of times."

"Yeah, but not with so many people 'round."

Hosea shook his head. "Nah, just the family. The ranch hands and guards won't be in the house."

"And this key? It unlocks the cellar door behind the barn?" Dutch inquired, stroking his mustache.

"Correct. That is where they keep their money as well as those documents we need to expose them."

"I don't know. I mean, how long do we gotta play pretend at dinner before he shows us around the place?" Arthur asked.

"Trust me, won't take long. He has a prized thoroughbred stallion he'll want to show off to Dutch. He showed it to me not long after arriving at their home still spinning the bullshit story we are now acting out."

"So, we nab him there and hold him hostage? Get into the cellar, take the money and documents and then get the hell out of there?" Dutch asked.

Hosea nodded, a pleased smile gracing his lips. "Yep. Easy peasy."

"The last time you said easy peasy, I nearly got killed in a goddamn dress, Hosea."

His father-figure stifled a grin, shrugging. "Well, if we ain't gettin' shot at in women's garments are we really living?" A wheezy laugh escaped his lips.

Hosea and Dutch snorted chuckles like naughty children and Dutch smacked Hosea on the arm playfully.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Oh, dear God."

The heavy thumping of hooves hit their ears, and a horse burst from the hidden path in the woods out into the camp. The three men were alerted and rose quickly to their feet. Susan pulled on the reins, containing the panting horse. Miss Grimshaw's hair was a mess, her eyes large and round, sweat trickling down her forehead.

"Dutch! Hosea! Them bastards got the boy! And Bessie, I couldn't stop her! I had to come get help!"

"What? Who?" Dutch demanded, his face quickly souring.

"The Warrens! They caught the boy robbin' the gun store. They're talkin' 'bout hangin' him! Bessie went after 'em to try and stop 'em! We have to hurry!"

"Goddammit!" Hosea cursed.

"Get your guns and mount up," Dutch ordered.

Hosea and Dutch went to their tents. Arthur hurried over to the wagon that contained their stored weapons. He tossed Susan a repeater as she briskly walked over and she caught it gracefully. When she came closer, he tried handing her a revolver, but she pushed it away. Instead, she reached into the compartment and pulled out a shotgun, cocking it with a scowl. Arthur got himself a repeater and a revolver and loaded them and his bandolier.

When he and Miss Grimshaw went for their horses, Dutch and Hosea were already mounting up. Dutch kicked his horse into a gallop, and they rode out. Arthur didn't realize his heart was racing until he spurred his horse to come up alongside Dutch and Hosea.

What was that boy thinking? Why did he try and rob the gunsmith? Arthur thought back. John seemed really curious on why Dutch wanted those guns.

 _Dumb kid!_ Arthur thought.

"I've told her! I've told her a thousand times!" Hosea yelled, voice shaky. It was strange to see his mentor unnerved. "I told Bessie her good heart was gonna get her killed one of these days!"

"Easy, brother," Dutch said, tone a mix of icy and calm that Arthur couldn't quite grasp. "She'll be fine. And we'll handle the Warrens. But now they got another thing comin'."

Arthur felt uneasy, glancing at Susan. Nothing good ever came out of Dutch's wrath and Hosea's fear. They were an ungodly mix of madness and trouble. If Hosea couldn't appease Dutch then they would surely be walking into an all-out gunfight.

Arthur pulled his horse around closer to Dutch. "Dutch, we should think this over."

"Oh, I am thinking. Lots of things."

"But-"

Dutch spurred his horse faster. Hosea and Susan directed their horses after him. Arthur cursed under his breath and caught up, nerves burning under his skin.

"If something happens to Bessie…I-"

"Nothin's gonna happen to her, Hosea. We'll handle this. They will be fine," Susan assured. "I just…I don't understand why John would rob the gunsmith."

Arthur looked at Dutch, took in the black fedora atop his dark curls, his tense shoulders and hardened glare. "Think he overheard that Dutch wanted 'em. Not sure what he was tryin' to prove though."

"Doesn't matter why," Dutch said, side-glancing them. "What matters is that these bastards are about to hang a goddamn boy and we need to stop it."

Despite his anger, Dutch had a valid point. Arthur may have had mixed feelings about John, but there was nothing good or justified over hanging a little boy.

Only the rumbling of their horses' hooves as they galloped for Hickory sounded over the rush of blood in their ears. Arthur's stomach churned, his nerves alit with fire now that anger fueled him.

They took the turn down to the Warren homestead, following a wide dirt road paralleled by a wood fence on each side. The old, two-story ranch house loomed at the end of the path, encircled by tall, shady oaks and firs.

They cut off the path towards the large, rustic barn where a small crowd was gathered near the entrance. Voices boomed across the cattle filled pastures surrounding the homestead. Some ranch hands ushered family members away with pale and worried faces.

They halted their horses and got off. Dutch and Hosea went right to each other's sides, drawing their guns and walking for the opened doors. Arthur and Miss Grimshaw got their weapons ready and followed right behind them.

Arthur's blood boiled at the sight he saw. John was up on a makeshift stand, a noose lynched around his neck and his arms bound behind his back. He looked absolutely terrified, fresh tears on his dirty face, a cut on his chin that bled. He was wearing Arthur's hat…

Despite the hat being way too big for his head and dark, greasy hair, he had it pressed down with the brim up so he could see.

The Warren family and most of their guards stood around John. Some had guns in their hands, looking out to the horrified faces of several ranch hands. Arthur saw Bessie to the right of the stand, being held by two guards, teary eyes on John with bruising welts across her jaw and cheek, her lip busted open.

"You people are animals! Let him go!" she yelled.

"Animals?!" Randy Warren scoffed. "The only animal I see is this little street rat who had the audacity to steal from us! It's my God-given right to hang thieves of my property! I'll make him an example for those who wish to rob us in the future! I don't take kindly to folks stealing what I worked hard for!"

 _Boom!_

The gunshot startled the crowd, the deafening blare cutting the air and silencing everyone. Smoke curled out of the barrel of Dutch's revolver as he pointed it towards the sky. The ranch hands silently stepped away, scared and confused. Arthur gripped his repeater, standing firm on Dutch's left side.

"What the hell is this?" Mr. Warren asked, glaring through his spectacles. His sons, Lester and Troy, stood on each side of him, also holding guns. Mr. Warren recognized them, but it soon turned into a sneer. "Ah, our fake friends. You really had me going for a while, gentlemen. But then I heard from one of my ranch hands that a few hucksters strolled into town looking for their friend, Mr. Galligan. 'Ol Jimmy was a good friend, a good source of information. Then he suddenly winds up dead after his "friends" show up into town and I knew something was amiss. But there's no denying the description of his friend and would-be killer. Your distinguishing features give you away, Mr. Van der Linde."

"What can I say, friend?" Dutch said, dark eyes on Mr. Warren as though he was prey. "I was cursed with these good looks."

Arthur knew…his father-figure had it out for Mr. Warren now.

"You're outnumbered here. I'm not sure what you want with the boy, but he's got other appointments, meeting his maker for one. Turn tail and leave, and I'll let you live."

"Dutch," Hosea whispered. It was nearly a plea.

"Oh sir, we do not run. You let my friend's wife go, and you hand me the boy, and we will let you live. Do that, and I won't make an example out of you with that noose instead."

Mr. Warren laughed. Arthur grimaced. Yep. There went that deal. Although, Arthur suspected that Dutch wasn't upset over it in the very least.

Hosea stepped forward, eyes earnest. "Do it, Mr. Warren. My friend, he-he…He isn't nearly as forgiving as I am. Let them go. You will never see us again."

"I don't make deals with lowlife ruffians."

"Arthur!" Dutch commanded.

Arthur raised his revolver, aiming for the men who held Bessie first. He flicked his hand over the hammer each trigger pull, _pow_ , _pow_ , and the men dropped. Dutch, Hosea, and Susan opened fire on the guards, running to the barn doors and taking cover, trapping the men inside.

The ranch hands scattered in the gunfight. Arthur felt a bullet blast through the old wood and graze his arm. He hissed.

Bessie grabbed a gun and ducked inside a stall within the barn, still trapped. Hosea covered Dutch as they aimed inside the building to take out the guards.

"Goddammit, the boy!" Dutch hollered.

Arthur looked, saw John hanging in the air, the makeshift stand no longer underneath him. His little legs kicked and he swayed, face turning blue. The hat had fallen off his head to the hay-covered ground.

"I'm goin' in!" Arthur yelled.

He dashed inside, the blaring gunfire ringing his ears. He shot Mr. Warren's younger son in the chest as he tried to intercept him. Arthur grabbed John's legs, pushing his tall shoulders under John's feet to relieve him from the noose. The boy's choking sobs stopped.

Arthur couldn't reach the noose to loosen it while holding John, and the boy couldn't grab it from his bound hands. A bullet whizzed between Arthur's legs, and another guard was shot down.

"Dutch! Hosea! Someone! Shoot the goddamn rope!" Arthur yelled.

Another gunshot, Arthur felt the rope go slack, and John dropped. He caught the boy, but they both crashed to the ground. Arthur was swift in his maneuvers to get him and the boy behind some cover. He pulled the bindings off John's hands and pulled the rope from his neck.

"Keep yer head down, kid!" Arthur ordered, pushing John's head down when he peeked out to see the gunfight.

"We're gonna die!" John cried.

"No, we ain't! Just do as I say!"

Arthur rose up, aiming at two more guards as they fired their repeaters towards the entrance of the barn. Two rapid trigger pulls and they were down. As Arthur was about to tell John to move, he was tackled to the ground.

The older son, Troy, was suddenly on top of him, fingers clenched around Arthur's throat. They rolled around in the muck and hay, punching, kicking, grunting. Troy grabbed a rusty sickle on the ground within their scuffle, and Arthur felt the blade slice across his collarbone. Arthur yelped, grabbing Troy's arm before he could slash it across his throat.

The gunfire kept raging around them, chunks of wood chipping and splintering from each blast. Arthur groaned, struggling to keep the sickle at bay.

"Duuuuutch, Hos…ea! A little…help here!"

Dutch attempted to get inside, but Hosea grabbed him and pulled him back just as a shotgun blast blew a hole in the door where he had been seconds before.

"Fuck! Arthur, hang on!" Dutch yelled.

Arthur heard some kind of angry cry and there were suddenly pitchfork barbs through Troy's chest, spurting blood out onto Arthur. Troy's agonized scream filled the barn as he dropped the tool to get up. Arthur took his chance and grabbed the rusty sickle, stabbing the long blade into the man's chest and ending him.

The barn went quiet. No more gunfire. No more yelling.

Arthur rolled the body off of him and got up. He saw John there, panting, shaking, a pitchfork in his hand as he stared with bulging eyes at the body.

"I-I…I-"

"Dammit, boy, I told ya to keep yer head down!"

John dropped the pitchfork like it was scorching hot, the color draining from his face. Arthur sighed, lungs full of gun smoke and dust. He reached over and pulled the boy into a one-armed hug.

"It's alright, kid. You done good."

"Arthur!"

He snapped his head over at the call. He saw Dutch coming in. Hosea and Bessie embraced near the entrance. Arthur didn't have a chance to say anything before Dutch grabbed him and looked him over, catching Arthur off guard.

"Jesus, son, I thought you were a goner."

Arthur scratched the back of his head as Dutch patted his shoulder affectionately. "Not this time."

"How's the boy?"

"He's fine." Arthur ran his hand across his nose, sniffling from the dust. "Helped me out a bit there, didn't ya?"

John wasn't there. Arthur's heart leapt to his throat, but then he spotted the boy in the center of the barn, where he almost hanged. He and Dutch walked over to him. John dusted something off. He turned around, slowly, shyly offering Arthur's hat.

"Here's your hat."

Arthur grinned, reaching out to take it when a crash sounded. Several farm tools fell over, making a mess. A trembling body crawled out of hiding, whimpering and sweaty. It was Mr. Warren.

An evil smirk rose on Dutch's face. "S'cuse me, gentlemen."

He ruffled John's hair as he passed by. Arthur took his hat and put it on, watching as Dutch walked over to the crying man with clenched fists.

"Dutch, no," Hosea called.

The words made Dutch falter, and he slowed. The man looked up, saw Dutch and screamed. He got up, escaping through the door to the back section of the barn. And like watching a deer flee, Dutch moved as a wolf in pursuit.

"No, leave me alone!" Mr. Warren yelled.

Arthur, Hosea, Bessie, Susan, and John followed after them. Mr. Warren cornered himself between a stable that held a beautiful, black thoroughbred and Dutch. The horse was going crazy, spooked by all the gunfire. Its stressful neighs filled the barn as it pawed at the ground, ears pinned and the whites of its eyes showing.

"I-I'll make you a d-deal! Anything, make me an offer! You want m-money? I got it!"

Dutch chuckled. "My friend, the time for deals has passed. You had your chance."

"N-No, wait!"

Dutch gut punched the man. They watched as Dutch gave him a few hard blows. John walked forward, bunching a fist and pulling his sleeve up. Arthur grabbed him by the ear and tugged him back.

"Ow, hey!"

"What do ya think you're doin'?"

"I'm helpin' him! That feller's a piece of a shit!"

"Better let Dutch handle it this time. Don't worry. He'll make 'em sorry."

Soon after, Dutch was dragging the screaming man, beaten to a pulp, across the ground by his feet as he weakly tried to grab for safety. John spat on him as he went by.

"You are the crookest crook around here, Mr. Warren! Burnin' down Andell, oppressing these fine people of Hickory to gain power! Hangin' a little boy! Beating a woman trying to save that boy! You revolt me!" Dutch yelled, hauling him to the center of the barn where John almost hanged earlier.

He dropped Mr. Warren's legs. He returned the makeshift stand and got more rope hanging on the wall. Whenever Mr. Warren tried to get up, Arthur or Miss Grimshaw kicked him back down. Dutch tied a noose on the rope and tested its hold before getting off the platform.

"I'll tell ya what, Mr. Warren. I'll make a deal for you. I won't turn in your dirty secrets. Maybe your family can recover from this. But you won't be around to see it."

He grabbed Mr. Warren. Miss Grimshaw, Arthur, and Dutch pulled him up onto the stand. The man cried and begged as Dutch tightened the noose around his neck.

"Your horse back there?" Dutch said, staring right at him. "It's ours. The money in your cellar. It's ours too."

"You can have it all, just don't hang me!" Mr. Warren begged. "I-I'm sorry, okay?" He gaped at John. "Little boy! I'm sorry!"

Dutch pinched the man's cheek. "He ain't interested in your apologies, old man! Now, to fulfill that promise I made to you earlier. I am a man of my word!"

Dutch hopped off the stand. They looked up at the bawling patriarch.

Susan curled her lip at him. "It's not nice being on that end of the rope, is it?"

Dutch kicked the stand out from under the man. He fell down, the rope catching, but it didn't break his neck. Like he was going to subject John to, he would dangle and die of asphyxiation.

They watched Mr. Warren kick and choke slowly. Arthur lit a cigarette, glancing over at Hosea. He was rigid, his eyes stern on their dying enemy. He held Bessie against him, her face more swollen than before.

"You alright, Bessie?"

She nodded, assuring him with a gentle smile. "I'll be fine, Arthur. Thank you."

"What 'bout you, Hosea?"

Hosea shrugged. "Can't say that I feel sorry for the fella anymore. It's just, well…Dutch can get a little carried away sometimes."

Arthur puffed on his cigarette, a wry smile forming. "Well one thing's for damn sure. Dutch always knows how to make an example outta someone."

Once Mr. Warren shuddered his last breath, Dutch turned around with a satisfied look on his face. "Time to break into that cellar."

"Bessie and I will get the horse," Susan said.

Dutch, Arthur, Hosea, and John left the barn. The Warren homestead was deathly silent, as though it had been cursed in the aftermath of the gunfight and the hanging of its lord.

"We should get what we can and get out of here, keep moving for a few days," Hosea suggested. "This…This turned into a bloody mess. We gotta lay low for a while, cover our trail."

"Don't worry, Hosea," Dutch said. "We're heading west as soon as we get the money."

"Uh…Mr. Dutch?" John mumbled.

"Yes, son? Are you alright? In all this madness, I've been unable to check on you. Are you hurt? Do you need anything?"

"N-No. I'm alright…thanks to Arthur."

Arthur felt his cheeks burn and he turned away.

"I got somethin' for you."

"For…me?" Dutch looked puzzled, kneeling down in front of the skinny boy.

John nodded his head, smiling. He pulled a key out of his pocket, presenting it to their leader. "It's the key to the gun safe. In the gunsmith. There's lots of guns in there…money too."

Dutch slowly took the key, looking it over, surprised. "You got this all on your own?"

"That's why you ran off? Why they caught you stealing?" Hosea questioned, disbelief lacing his tone as well. "Just for that?"

John suddenly looked self-conscious, dark eyes shifting between them as he played with his fingers. "Yeah…I mean, I overheard Mr. Dutch wanting them. And I wanted to do something to repay you fellas for feedin' and shelterin' me…repay Arthur for savin' me from drownin'. So, I took Arthur's weapons to break in there and get it."

Arthur wasn't sure what he was feeling. He was angry, frustrated, sure, but his heart clenched when he realized exactly why John ran off with his weapons. "Ya dumb fool! Almost got yourself killed anyway! Why would you do that?! What if we hadn't come in time?!"

Hosea hit him hard. Arthur gnashed his teeth but didn't speak another word. John lowered his eyes, shoulders slumping. It was a complete turnaround from his usual rowdy and stubborn nature. And Arthur forgot for a moment that John's tough exterior was just a front to protect himself and to hide his inner grief and fears, much like Arthur had done at his age. And maybe still some to this day.

He sighed, ashamed.

Dutch glared at Arthur only briefly before putting his hands on each of John's shoulders, looking at him closely. "My boy…sometimes we lash out in anger when we care the most."

John slowly nodded, glancing up at Arthur.

"What you did was very brave, but your life ain't worth what's in there," Hosea said.

"I just…wanted to repay you. After causin' you trouble and-and-"

"You don't owe us nothin', boy," Arthur said. "We just did the right thing. We're bad people a lot of the time. We rob, we con, hell like today we kill a lot of folks sometimes, but we ain't never gonna let a kid go hungry or be drowned."

"It was nice…havin' someone care. I forgot what that felt like."

Dutch rose to his full height, his features softer than Arthur had seen in a while as he studied John. "Hosea…we're keeping him."

Hosea rolled his eyes. "No surprise there. It's Arthur all over again."

"Hey!"

John gaped, a surprised, unsure smile pulling on his lips. "R-Really? You'll let me stay?"

"Of course, son. We'll teach you the tricks of our trade. Me, Hosea, and Arthur."

"I ain't no nanny, Dutch," Arthur said.

Hosea smacked Arthur's arm. "Nope, you're a brother now. Get used to it."

"Goddammit."

He sounded frustrated on the outside, but inside Arthur felt relieved the little shit was going to be safe.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry this chapter took a bit longer than intended! Yay, now John is officially part of the gang/family! It's not quite over yet though, I still have one more chapter for this short story to come! Hope everyone is enjoying the story so far, and I hope your new year is going good! Til next time readers. ^^**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

* * *

 _Six months later..._

"Relax."

The breath that came from John's lips was shaky. Arthur reached out and cupped a hand over the drawn revolver that quivered in John's fingers. He steadied the boy, looking down the range where the bottles sat atop the fence.

"Keep steady now. The key is to breathe in and then release it slowly and pull the trigger. Don't anticipate the kick, or you'll always miss your mark. You gotta get used to it."

Arthur stepped back, allowing John some space. John stared down the bottles with a determined gleam in his eye. He fidgeted on his feet, arm extended out with the revolver.

Arthur smacked the boy upside the head.

"Ow!"

"Steady, I said, boy!"

John focused again, letting a breath slip from his lips. He pulled the trigger. The revolver went off, a loud bang to their ears, the kickback tossing John's arms up.

All bottles remained unscathed. John growled in frustration.

"I killed a man with one of these things but now I ain't got the nerve to shoot a bottle."

Arthur chuckled. "That was luck back then. And luck's nice to have, but it ain't always gonna save you. You got plenty of nerve, kid. It's confidence you lack. Here."

Arthur picked his hat off his head and plopped it on John's head, grinding it down on his scalp and getting a small giggle out of the thin boy.

Arthur wasn't sure why, but John liked his hat, even still after running with them for six months. He never gave a reason to Arthur on why, but he guessed it didn't really matter. He'd let John wear it time to time, and it gave the boy a boost of confidence needed in his teachings.

"Now, let's try again. Spread your feet a bit further apart. There ya go. Aim with a steady hand."

Arthur fixed how John held his arms out with the gun aimed.

"Good. Now remember the breathin'. Don't anticipate the kick. Shoot that green bottle now. Go on. You can do it."

John sucked in a deep breath and released it. He pulled the trigger and the shot rang out across the valley. The green bottle shattered on the fence.

John's mouth opened wide with a grin as he jumped in victory. "Yes! I did it, did you see it, Arthur?!"

Arthur walked over and patted him on the back. "Damn kid, good shot! You keep that up, you'll be shootin' better than me."

John laughed. "I wish. There's no way I can shoot like you or Dutch. And I don't even wanna think 'bout tryin' to beat Hosea. You're the fastest I've seen with a six shooter and I saw Dutch shoot a bird out of the sky through the trees with his revolver. And Hosea hit a deer in the eye on a runnin' horse with his rifle."

Arthur took back his hat, ruffling the boy's hair. "Hosea will probably outshoot us well after he's old 'n gray."

"Probably."

Arthur nodded his head towards the grazing horses. "C'mon. I reckon we better get back to camp and skin that pronghorn or we'll be goin' hungry tonight. Besides, you got more lessons comin' up."

John groaned. "What's so important about readin' and writin' anyway?"

They mounted their horses and started back towards camp. John guided his horse to canter alongside Arthur's horse, where their freshly killed pronghorn was stowed.

The Wyoming valley extended in rolling, grassy hills around them within clusters of trees and surrounding mountains. The sun was high with not a cloud in sight, but the wind nipped hard on their skin, warning of coming winter.

Arthur took a drink out of his water canteen and passed it to John. "If Dutch and Hosea say it's important, then it's important. Ya need to be literate in the jobs we do."

"Sometimes I think that's harder than learnin' how to ride a horse or shoot a gun."

Arthur nodded with a soft laugh. "Yeah, it's hard sometimes. They taught me, same as you. I reckon if they can teach a dummy like me, then they can teach you too. I mean look at you. It didn't take long for you to learn how to ride a horse."

"I guess so…"

They rode together side by side while chatting. John could be a talkative boy and today he was full of questions. Arthur kept an eye out around them as they crossed a bridge over a low-running creek into a field of sagebrush and boulders.

His eye caught something down near the water and he quickly pulled on the reins to stop his horse. He recognized the familiar flower that bloomed there, the soft pink petals and dark anthers stood out amongst the reeds and mud.

Arthur got off his horse. He couldn't believe it. He didn't think he was far enough west yet to find one. The flower was his mother's favorite, and he remembered her telling him it brought good luck. He was so young when she passed, it was one of the few precious memories he had of her.

"What is it?" John asked.

"I'll be right back," Arthur replied, sliding down the slope into the creek bed.

Arthur wasn't surprised that John's curiosity and stubbornness got the best of him. He followed Arthur down into the creek bed on his horse. The steed nickered nervously around the reeds and muck.

"John, better not get down in this on that horse," Arthur warned.

"I'm fine."

Arthur bent down once reaching the flower. He admired it for a moment, caressing its petals. He reached down and grabbed the stem, carefully pulling it from the soil.

Just as Arthur stood his full height, he heard it. The unmistakable, nerve-shattering, dreadful noise of a vibrating rattle. He froze, looking into the reeds, but John's horse spooked. The gelding reared with a loud neigh, tossing John of its back and bolted.

John fell with a yelp into the reeds and muck. Arthur scanned the green stalks for movement, his hand hovering over his holstered revolver.

"John, don't move!"

He saw the serpent, the bend in the reeds as it slithered by in haste. Arthur drew his gun and shot it. John got up, his body and clothes now covered with muck. He flicked his hands to cast off excess mud, curling his lip in disgust.

"Ew!"

"I told you not to bring that horse down here, boy."

John spat out mud from his mouth. "Yeah, yeah."

Arthur picked up the rattlesnake, looking the limp body over. He grinned at John and his now even dirtier appearance. "Miss Grimshaw ain't gonna allow that, ya know."

"I'll wipe it off as soon as we get back, don't worry."

"Somehow, I don't think that's gonna be enough."

Arthur cut the rattle off the dead viper and extended it out towards John. John smiled and took it, testing the rattle out with a shake.

"Neat!"

"C'mon, best we get back and clean you up."

Arthur looked over the flower one last time before slipping it inside his satchel. Luckily, John's horse didn't flee far, taking comfort next to Arthur's horse. They climbed up and headed out once more.

"So, what's with the flower?"

Arthur frowned, wondering if he should tell him or not. "It was my Ma's favorite flower. One of the few things I remember 'bout her. She died when I was real young. I always pick one when we come out this way. They only grow out west."

"Oh."

Arthur glanced over at John. The boy became solemn, his eyes falling to the mane of his horse.

"What is it?"

"I never knew my Ma. S-She died havin' me. My Pa never told me much 'bout her."

Arthur understood how the poor boy felt, and sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Me too."

They were quiet for several minutes. Arthur scratched his cheek, uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. "Susan's strict but she cares a lot more than she lets on. And-And Bessie, well, she's the gentlest woman I know. I've come to care for them as mothers, in their own ways. I'm sure you will too. Them two ladies would never let anyone touch a hair on your head. Bessie for sure. She has quite the soft spot for you."

John smiled. "I like Bessie a lot. She's the nicest lady I've ever met. I-I like Miss Grimshaw too. I know she cares, even when she's bein' tough on me."

Arthur chuckled. "I'd be pissin' my pants more if I saw them two comin' after me after you were hurt even over Dutch 'n Hosea. You ever see Miss Grimshaw grab a shotgun while fumin' you better hunker down, boy, 'cause things are 'bout to get ugly. Hah!"

John laughed with him. "I wouldn't doubt that! She can be scary."

They took another trail going up into the evergreen forest along a rocky ridge. The path was worn down to dirt and rocks that jutted out from the soil, so they had to slow their pace some for the horses. Camp wasn't far now.

"I overheard Hosea and Bessie talkin' a couple weeks back, not long after we got here."

"You're a nosy little bugger aren'tcha?"

"Hey, they thought everyone was sleepin' and I happened to not be. But anyways, well, it worried me a bit. Sounded like they wanted to leave us."

Arthur shot his eyes over at John from those words. "Surely, you misheard. What did ya hear?"

"Bessie asked Hosea if they would ever try again. To leave this life behind and start their own family. Hosea asked her if she wanted to, but I didn't hear an answer. I dunno if she shook her head or what. But it's what Hosea said next that confused me."

"What did he say?"

John thinned his lips, thinking back. "He said…he said there's an internal conflict within Dutch, one that he doesn't even know about. And Hosea said he has to stay by his side…to keep Dutch from feeding an inner wolf…whatever that means. That he has to guide Dutch as well as protect us. He said he fears that Dutch is becoming disillusioned with his own beliefs, but I don't know what he means."

Arthur scowled, not sure what to take from those words either. For some reason, he thought back to Dutch's behavior at the Warren homestead when they saved John from being hanged. Arthur didn't see anything wrong with what Dutch did, seeing it as an "eye for an eye" for what Mr. Warren tried to do to a young boy, for all the corruption he was behind in Hickory and Andell. But there had been a certain…burning in Dutch's eyes that Arthur had never seen before.

Arthur shrugged. "Eh, Hosea worries too much sometimes. I'm sure it's nothin'. He and Bessie tried goin' straight once and came back. The thing is…Dutch and Hosea are a package. One cannot function without the other. Like buddy-sour horses if you try and separate 'em."

"So, it's nothin' to worry 'bout?"

"Nah, 'course not."

"Oh, good."

They came upon the camp, hidden in a glade within the spruce forest and half surrounded by an overhanging cliff. The tents and wagon were stationed around the rocky opening. A campfire was smoldering near some sitting stones and a log. The horses were hitched in a grassy patch near the cliff.

The gentle rumble of a small waterfall sounded on the other side of the cliff as the water cascaded into a basin next to the camp before flowing out into a large river.

Arthur and John hitched their horses with the others and got off. Arthur took the pronghorn off his horse and carried it over to the butcher table to skin later.

He looked around camp. Bessie was washing clothes in the basin while Susan hung some sheets up to dry. Hosea and Dutch were at a table, a chessboard in between them. Both looked to be in deep thought as they considered their tactics. Dutch was black and Hosea white, but Arthur didn't understand chess too well and so was lost at who was winning.

Arthur and John had just taken off their satchels and gun holsters when Susan stamped their way with a look in her eye.

"Uh oh," John muttered.

"John Marston, look at you! You look like you've been in a pigsty!"

"Sorry Miss Grimshaw, my horse threw me on the way home. I'm goin' over to the water barrel right now."

"Oh no! That won't do. You need a bath!" Susan pointed down nearby at the basin of clear, cold water.

John's eyes went wide. "What?! No way! I'd rather be eaten by wolves!"

John slipped behind Arthur to avoid Susan's grabbing hands. Susan stepped around Arthur's back, and the two preceded to chase each other around, using Arthur as an obstacle. Arthur watched them go round and round while arguing, catching Bessie's and their leaders' attentions.

"Arthur, help me!" John cried.

"It's just a bath, you little imp!"

Arthur groaned. He reached out and grabbed John, picking the boy up off the ground easily. He started walking for the basin with John fighting his clutches.

"There's no use fightin' it, John. Let's just get this over with."

He stopped at the water's edge. The water was clear and clean, but the basin sloped fast, becoming deep and turning dark blue in the middle. There were tons of fish in the water, and a gentle ripple came from the waterfall.

"I know you don't like water, but the sooner you get clean, the sooner we can get about our business."

"It's not that!" John hollered, squirming. "I…I can't swim!"

Arthur narrowed his brows. "Whatchu mean you can't swim?"

"Just that, ya dummy! I never learned and ever since I almost drowned, I've been scared to! Now let me go!"

"I know how to fix that."

"Wha-?"

Arthur tossed John into the basin. Susan gawked, jaw going wide as the splash sounded across camp. John burst out of the surface, gasping, limbs flailing. Soon Dutch, Hosea, and Bessie ran up.

"Kick them legs and move them arms, you'll learn!" Arthur yelled.

"You're evil!"

"Arthur, what the hell are you doing?!" Dutch snapped.

"What? That's how my Pa taught me," Arthur defended.

"Your daddy wasn't exactly right in the head then!" Hosea exclaimed.

"Well, he-" Arthur started, but Dutch smacked him hard across the back of the head. "Ow, hey!"

"Get in there and get him before he drowns!"

Arthur jumped into the water and swam the short distance to John. The clean, blue water turned brown from the muck washing away from the flailing boy. Arthur reached out and snagged John, and like a prickly bur, the wild boy seized onto him and wouldn't let him go.

He got to the basin edge and was helped out by Dutch and Hosea. John clung onto Arthur's back, terrified, soaked, and shivering.

"Sorry, John. I thought it would work with you too."

They helped John down. The boy glared up at Arthur, still shivering and dripping wet. "Your pa was an evil bastard, Arthur!"

Arthur shrugged. "I mean, ya ain't wrong."

"You alright, John?" Hosea asked.

"I think…so."

Dutch sighed. "Susan, Bessie, could you please clean him up?"

"Sure, Dutch," Susan replied.

Bessie took John's hand and guided him for the wagon to clean him up and get him fresh clothes. John followed silently, leaving a dripping trail behind.

Arthur felt Dutch's and Hosea's chastising glares on him. He blinked at them. "What?! He got clean didn't he?!"

Dutch shook his head. "You just graduated to a new level of big brother."

"Try to refrain from throwing John into bodies of water in the future until we can teach him how to swim…the proper way," Hosea said.

"Alright, sure." Arthur scratched the back of his neck, looking down at his own soaked form. "Well, s'cuse me, gentlemen. I better change and get to skinnin' an animal."

* * *

The sun had disappeared beyond the western horizon, and the stars glowed like perfect orbs across a black sky. Like infinite shining jewels, they lit the sky up in a spray of brilliance. They glimmered so vibrantly, Arthur felt he could reach up and pluck one from the heavens. He admired their beauty while eating his supper. They seemed so…endless.

John sat beside him, wolfing his stew down. The boy still ate like a starved dog, and Arthur was sure the boy ate nearly double he did. He had gained a little weight since being with them, but was still a scrawny twig.

He was clean now, even his hair seemed a bit less greasy. Arthur was surprised he was even sitting next to him. John sure had been mad for Arthur throwing him into the basin.

"John, I'm…sorry for that. I didn't know that almost drownin' freaked you out that much. Ya know, when my Pa did that to me, I panicked, but…but I learned. I guess."

John wiped his mouth with his sleeve, looking up at him. "It's alright. I know you meant well, even if it was really mean. But your Pa…well he weren't right in the head!"

Arthur laughed. "Not arguin' with ya there. But hey, we'll teach ya properly, whenever you're ready."

"Okay."

Dutch approached them at the campfire, a cigar curled in a finger. Hosea and Bessie played dominoes at the table while eating, and Susan read at the other end of the campfire while she ate.

"Arthur, I'm going to need you to come into town with me tomorrow."

Arthur sat his empty plate aside, nodding. "Alright, sure, Dutch. What're we doin'?"

"Meeting a man named Colm O'Driscoll. Supposed to have a good handle on any jobs out this way. We could help each other. He mostly works in California, which is where we're headed. So…could be a promising start."

"Oh, can I come, Dutch?" John asked, thrilled.

Dutch smirked, flicking the ash of his cigar into the campfire. "No, son. Not this time. It may be dangerous. I appreciate your enthusiasm though. Don't worry, you'll get to come with us soon enough."

John frowned. "Okay."

"How's your shootin' coming along?" Dutch asked him.

John glanced up at Arthur then smiled at Dutch. "Comin' along real good, Dutch. I'm gettin' better!"

"Good to hear. Say, how about you and I go out shooting when we get back from town tomorrow? I think it's my turn to give Arthur a little break anyways. I can show ya a little trick you may like."

"Really? Sure!"

Dutch chuckled, ruffling John's head. "That's my boy. Now, don't forget you have a study session with me and Hosea after supper, ya hear?"

"Oh, right. Yes sir."

"Arthur, try to get to bed at a decent time tonight. I need you well-rested for tomorrow, son."

"Don't worry 'bout me, Dutch. I'll be ready."

Dutch patted his shoulder and left the campfire. Arthur sighed and scooped up his empty plate and spoon. John handed over his empty plate as well.

"You want seconds?" Arthur asked.

John shook his head. "Nah, I better get my study over with."

"Yeah, I better get my chores done."

"Will I ever get to go with you and Dutch on jobs?"

"Well, sure. You just got to get better at shootin' and readin' and writin'. You're getting there, John. Dutch is real proud, he praises 'bout you all the time. You'll get to come with us before you know it."

"Ugh, just seems like I'll never get the hang of it."

"You will. I thought the same too. Dutch and Hosea and well…me also…we just don't want anythin' bad to happen to ya. We're just bein' protective, is all."

That got a smile out of John, and he looked grateful. "Thank you, Arthur."

Arthur playfully smacked the boy on the arm. "Course! Now, get over there and learn some readin'. Maybe we can play some dominoes later."

John left to go to Dutch's tent. Arthur took their plates to the wash bin and went to feed and brush the horses. Since the sun went down, the temperature dropped considerably. Arthur knew that winter was getting close, and hoped they would make it to California before the first snow.

After tending to the horses, Arthur helped Susan and Bessie with the laundry and dishes. He stopped to peak into Dutch's tent. A lantern lit the tent up, and showed Dutch sitting next to John and Hosea sitting across from them. John looked like he was mouthing something from a book.

"He's such a good kid. I'm so glad we found him," Bessie said, looking over at the tent as well. "He deserves much better than what's he had growing up."

Arthur slowly nodded. "Yeah. We all had it rough, but he…well, it ain't been easy for the boy. You can tell he ain't used to nobody carin'."

"You're right. He's sure has taken to you though. Follows you all over the camp…eager to go with you hunting or shopping."

Arthur rubbed his neck. "Yeah, well, he likes to follow Dutch around too, ya know."

Bessie giggled. "Ain't nothin' to be embarrassed about, Arthur. He looks up to you. That's always a nice thing."

Arthur softly snorted a chuckle, lowering his head. "Well, he likes you a lot, Bessie. I think…I think he may see you as a mama he ain't never had."

Bessie put a hand over her heart, a smile gracing her beautiful face. "That…That means so much to me. I'm happy to hear that."

Bessie stood up on her tip toes and kissed Arthur on the cheek. "G'night, dear. You boys be careful in town tomorrow, ya hear?"

"Yes, ma'am. G'night."

Arthur went to his tent to do some writing in his journal. He kicked his boots off and took his hat from his head. He pulled the flower from his satchel and admired it for a moment, thinking back to the blurry memories of his mother. He placed the flower in a jar and sat it to the side by his bag and weapons and his pictures.

John's writing and reading lesson went on longer than Arthur thought it would, and so by the time he was done scribbling in his journal, John finally appeared and crawled into the tent with him. Arthur wasn't surprised. The boy had his own tent now, but there were many nights that he slept with Arthur in his tent. It annoyed Arthur at first, but he had come accustomed to it and didn't gripe about it…too much.

"How'd it go?" Arthur asked, shading the sketch he drew of his Ma's flower.

"Good, I s'pose. Went on longer than usual. We didn't even get to play a game."

"Maybe tomorrow then."

"You draw really good."

Arthur pulled the journal closer to him so John couldn't see. "Don't be peekin'. This is for my eyes only."

"Dutch has a similar journal. He has some drawings in there, but not as much as yours. He writes real fancy though. Maybe one day I'll be able to read what it says."

Arthur heaved a sigh. "You ain't supposed to read or go through other people's things. It's rude and wrong. Better not let Dutch catch ya doin' that, or he may tan your hide."

"Ain't that what we do though? We go through folks' things and steal them?"

Arthur snorted. "Gotta point there. I meant your friends' things."

"Do they always stay up late talkin'?" John asked, looking out of the tent.

Arthur followed his gaze out of the tent and across the way. Hosea and Dutch sat at the table, both peering at the stars as they smoked on cigars. Hosea pointed at something in the sky while talking, but Arthur couldn't make the words out.

"Most nights, yeah."

"What do they talk about?"

Arthur grumbled. "I dunno. Life, philosophy, their dreams. All kinds of things."

"Must be nice to have a friend that you can do that with. To have all your trust in, to care for you and have your back. That you can tell all your hopes and fears to and-and know they will do anythin' for you."

Arthur closed his eyes, releasing a quiet breath. He reached over and grabbed his hat. He placed it on John's head. John smiled, his eyes tearing away from Dutch and Hosea to look up at Arthur.

"You have that right here. We all got your back, kid. We all care about you, and will never let anything like what happened back at that homestead ever happen to you again. You need someone to confide in…we're here."

John's cheeks flushed, but he looked so happy as he reached up at felt Arthur's hat. "Thanks…Arthur. I…I never thought I would find a place I could belong."

"Well, now you have."

"I promise, I will learn and become strong like you and will return it...I'll be loyal and strong and do anything in my power to help and protect you folks. I care 'bout all y'all very much."

Arthur chuckled. "Alright, alright. No need to get all emotional. I get ya and I have no doubt in it. Now, c'mon, let's get some shut eye. We got a long day tomorrow."

Arthur laid on his pallet and fluffed his pillow. He sat his journal aside by his satchel. John got comfortable on the other side of the tent on his own pallet, still keeping Arthur's hat on his head.

"Why do you like my hat so much anyways?" Arthur asked as he snuffed out the lantern.

"I don't really know. When I first saw you in Hickory, I just thought it was neat looking, and wanted it. But now…I think it's 'cause it's yours, and it makes you look like one of them legends or heroes you hear in them wild west tales. And when I wear it…I feel like maybe I can be like you one day. Brave, and strong, and loyal. That I can be a good man."

"Not sure if I'm any good. What we do ain't good. But you'll be a man one day. I plan to give that hat to my son, if I ever have kids that is. But who knows…maybe one day, I'll give it to you instead."

"I always wondered what it would be like."

Arthur glanced over John's way, but couldn't see him in the dark. Only the dancing of flames shimmered within the tent.

"Wondered what?"

"What it would be like to have a brother."

Arthur softly smiled. "Me too."

* * *

 **A/N: And there's the end of that story! Hope you all enjoyed it! ^^ I've had a few people PM me and ask me to do another short multi-fic around how Dutch and Hosea met and how they met Arthur, so I might do that! I am also thinking about doing a one-shot on my take on what happened in Blackwater too. We'll see! If you haven't already, check out the first chapter to my multi-chapter fic in progress _Blessed are the Peacekeepers_. The second chapter is in the works. Thanks for sticking with this short story! Have a good week friends! :D**


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